Re:Animation
by Tall-Gothic-Guy
Summary: A Necromancer is easy to describe, but what people rarely ever know about them is that Death is their final wish above everything else. To return to dust and Rest in Peace in the Afterlife. Give a Death Mage the Curse of 'Return by Death', however, then Emurdol Viandegroc will eventually realize that dying in another world is easier said than done. (Graphic and Mature content)
1. The Smell of Taint

Weeks have past. The gratitude, the commemoration and the recognition, he earned it all in the honor of taking part in the eradication of all of Pandemonium's Supreme Sins.

He had grieved, he had celebrated, he had brightened the reputation of his kind, and now he plans to go back to the Subterranean City, to settle down and rest.

His armor has been repaired, the bones of his cuirass now replaced with the bones of stone trolls. It isn't as formidable as the bones of mountain giants he once had but it's better than nothing. His sickle and dagger has been sharpened and fashioned to perfection by the best smithy known. His bone wand containing the skull of a lich remained untouched, needing only the maintenance a Priest of the Serpent can manage in order to keep it well-conditioned and contained. And finally, his cloak. The only thing he never replaced, the first thing he wore when he ventured into the above world and the last thing he kept as he reaches home.

And now he's heading exactly there.

It was evening, a particularly ominous one as he treaded through the forest path. The moon wasn't shining, the winds weren't blowing, and everything was quiet. However, he wasn't tense or afraid in any way. Nothing in this world could frighten him anymore. He had seen the worst of everything in this damn world. What else does he need to fear?

So he ventured further without a care, his senses already sharpened to hear any suspicious movement or any disturbance in the air that indicated hostility. His gait was composed, confident and lax, unconcerned to the fact that a smell was starting to permeate around him.

The smell instantly became unbearable.

He frowned, plugging his nose. Not desiring to smell like he came out of a mad wizard's laboratory, he stood in place and looked around him, looking for the source of that horrid odor. It was dark everywhere, especially when the moon wasn't present to give light, but his familial genetic quirk granted him the benefit of seeing in the dark.

Yet….he saw nothing. He saw no sign of anyone or anything being around, hiding behind any obstruction in his line of sight. Not even the Spirits or the Dead told him of any living thing present.

"Hmm…" He hummed in wonder, closing his eyes in thought to consider certain possibilities.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps….lots of them...clamoring, the presence of _hundreds _of individuals….there was sudden brightness attacking his light-sensitive vision when he opened his eyes to see what was happening.

"Argh!" He recoiled, bringing his arms up to shield his vision. There was the sound of yelps coming all around him, as if the 'crowd' around him was surprised at his sudden movements.

He wasn't sensing any malicious intent nor was there any form of disturbance in the air, the Spirits didn't even warn him of anything dangerous. Does this mean that whatever is going on, it's nothing concerning? Eager to know the answer, he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the bright light, and….

….his emerald eyes widened in shock.

It was once a dim night, now it was a bright day.

There should have been an unnoticeable chill, now he felt the _heat_ of the sun.

There was once a road in a forest path, now he was in the center of a _town_.

He was alone with the spirits of the resting seconds ago, now he was _surrounded_ by onlookers that carried looks of curiosity mixed with fear and suspicion.

There are no demons he knew that ever looked close to human. And now they surrounded him, alongside _actual _humans, sharing the same look of trepidation and shock at him. They were in the same distance, _not_ fearing or killing the other.

Uncertainty. Panic. Distrust. Violation. Anger. Fury. He boiled with these emotions inside him as the familiar sight of being looked at like he was an enemy, the mana in his form acting up to manifest a curse. A curse that emulated the true suffering of being _alive_.

He screamed, sending a blight into all who looked at him. Their vision darkened, their senses numbed and silenced, sending them into a panic as they writhed on the floor trying to hear their own voice, trying to feel the world with their hands, trying to sense just _anything_ to confirm that there were alive. The most desperate among them bit their own flesh, trying to feel pain and earned naught. The knight who was about to confront him took his sword in his hand and cut his own palm, he felt nothing.

And when an eternity seemingly passed, their senses have returned, sight, touch, smell, taste and hearing reconciling with their minds. The ones who inflicted self-harm screamed at the sensation they brought upon themselves. And when the people were about to face the bone-bodied man they last saw, there was nothing there but a bare spot on the ground.

Confusion and panic rolled across the area amongst the people like a plague.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

As soon as he found himself a private place in the alley to calm down, Emurdol immediately collapsed to his knees, as if he lost his breath even though he wouldn't have been winded at such a distance. Still, the panic he felt was heavy.

"What happened...!?" He muttered, his breath shaking like never before. "What….! What…! What is going on…!?"

His clawed gloves scratched against the tiled floors, creating a grating sound and leaving 4 white lines until it formed into a clenched fist. It shook in his frustration, the metal creaking under the frustration. He had so many questions, so much to ask, but who can he inquire with them? This place is too unfamiliar, and those demons standing around near the humans are just making things worse. Was he teleported against his will? Was this some sort of joke? Just what is it?

And the Smell of Taint isn't leaving him at all.

"Damn it…!" He cursed, teeth gritting as he beckoned the assistance of any help available around him that he could trust. Spirits of Nature or the Dead, he'll go with either one or the other. He needs _answers_. "Just what the fuck is going on…..!?"

"Oi! What're you babbling about there?"

"We mean serious business here! If you don't wanna get hurt, cough up whatever you got!"

His head snapped to the direction of such rugged voices, beholding a trio of obvious colors.

_Thugs. _The easiest deduction he ever got. He frowned darkly. No matter where he is, there's still more of the species of scum that eat on the lives on the unfortunate. These idiots are just pissing him off by being alive.

"Leave me be….!" He growled dangerously, his eyes flashing bright green as he readied a curse to escape from his lips at a moment's need. "I have no time for scum like the three of you!"

"What!?" The smallest one of the trio asked in indignance. "S-scum!?"

"Well, ya got some nerves for some kinda hotshot!" The middle of the trio, a silver-haired man with a chain manacled to his throat, stomped up to him and grabbed his cloak, forcing him slightly up to his feet and into his face. "You mind saying that to me again!? What'd ya call us!?"

His frustration was already past the limit of allowing any peaceful outcomes to happen, and this brat had pushed his buttons with the way he was holding him.

Clawed hands gripped into the man's wrists, instantly turning the superior expression he carried into a painful scrunch as the pressure intensified, drawing pained yelps from his mouth. "Aaagh! Tight! Too tight! It hurts! AGH!" His would-be victim rose to full height, fully dwarfing the thug as if he was a child. He was a head and a half shorter than the cloaked man.

Emurdol leaned his head back and slammed his forehead into the thug's own, instantly drawing blood and knocking him out cold. With this scum out of the way, he shoved it back and let the body fall to the stone floor like a sack of wet paper.

"Damn you!" The biggest of the trio, who seemed to be his equal in stature, charged at him with what looks like a cleaver. The swing he executed was laughable, easily avoidable and even a lesser hellspawn could read his movements before the bastard even drew his arm back.

He was tempted to let the blade land and see if it would even go through his cuirass, but he held back the condescending thought and acted accordingly to his emotions: he felt satisfied from doing such damage, relieving, _satisfying,_ and he wanted more. So he swung his fist back, fully extended behind him even as the cleaver was inches away from his shoulder and threw it, landing the strike straight to the cheek, the blade missing completely as he twisted in the motion and the scum slamming against the wall.

Completely unconscious the bigger thug was, Emurdol turned his eyes to the smallest, who was now shaking with fear at the discovery of who was actually in control. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! P-please! Spare me! I'll do anything! Just—"

Already having lost his patience, he grabbed the thug by the throat, effortlessly lifted him up from the ground and forced the Nightmare Curse as he gazed deeply into his victim's pinpointed orbs until the illusion is fully imprinted into him.

The small body is released and lands to the ground with a thick thud, the small man's expression frozen in catatonic shock as he witnessed every nightmare fathomable in his range of imagination. Emurdol is merciful enough to let it last for a single minute, but even that much is a traumatizing experience for the weak-minded.

It would be essential to extract some information and know something of the place he was in….

He regarded the trio in clear detail. One was writhing in pain holding his head, another was unconscious with the likelihood of a broken jaw and the last is currently lacking coherency, unable to recover for likely a _month_.

….useless, all of them. He is so tempted to have them executed and have their Souls serve under him. At least in that fashion, their existence will have a bountiful use under his will.

"Hmph." By the Dragon, he will not do such a thing. Such disgusting Souls do not benefit him. Wiping the bloodstain out of his forehead, his silver tresses swishing against his fingers, he walked with light steps onwards. Though he remained uncertain as he doesn't know where to even go.

At least he's not panicking anymore and felt more at ease with his situation. The scuffle must have allowed him to vent it out. He smiled in morbid amusement, somehow feeling a little appreciative for the thugs to come by and confront him. "Once again, scum have their uses. Mainly as my punching bag for stress-relief." He muttered, his voice grave and guttural in whispers.

He held his elbow across his stomach while a free hand held his chin, his brow furrowing in thought. What can he do now? He needs to seek out answers, that was the first step to take in a foreign land. But who can he ask? He may have removed the prejudice of his kind back in his homeland but it does not mean the same prejudice he once suffered won't befall him if he interacts with someone in _this_ place. It's not like news of his accomplishments would reach that—

"HEY!" A shrill voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he beheld a small form sprinting from the bright opening of the alley ahead of him. "MOVE IT! MOVE IT! Whoever you are, out of the way! I'm in a hurry!"

His eyes narrowed and he suppressed the urge to smirk at the fortune he suddenly had. Yes, this little one will satisfy his hunger for answers.

The look of desperation and purpose in her eyes as well as the strain visible in her movements: this was a familiar sight. In a poor town ruled by barbarism and lawlessness, his friend Pericus once experienced getting his coin pouch pickpocketed by a waif and the child was not lucky to run into Emurdol who waited in the corner of a building and grabbed him by the arm as soon as he passed. The boy got off lightly as he was allowed to keep half the coins by the mercy of his friend but the infamous lecture enacted by a Priest of the Serpent ensured a proper reformation of living habits.

This girl running towards him looks exactly like that boy. It's obvious she was being chased and the way her right hand is closed unlike the left implied that there was something inside. A thief running from her pursuing victim. Scum never change, no matter their reasons.

"You'll do." He muttered quietly as the little one run past him and leapt to the wall beside him. Before she could rebound off it, a hand clamped down on her ankle and she fell to the ground unceremoniously with a squeak as the momentum was lost.

"Ow!" The girl twisted to her side to glare at him while her ankle was still held on with an iron grip. "The hell!? Why'd you grab me!?"

"I need answers." He answered in a very conversational tone, as though he did not just pull a young girl down. "I beg your pardon but I will not take 'no' for an answer."

"What!? No way! Go find someone else! Can't you see I'm busy!?"

"Too busy running away from someone you've pilfered?" He asked without losing his tone.

The look of shock on her face said it all. He always enjoyed seeing that kind of face. Before he could add a comment, her other leg moved to kick his wrist. Seeing it coming, his other hand pierced out of his cloak's opening to catch the other ankle. In a swift motion, he threw her nimble legs up, the girl automatically doing a flip back to her feet and fluidly twisted around, instantly attempting to run the opposite direction, only to run into his bone-inlaid chest hidden underneath the cloak, eliciting another squeak from the impact and she fell to the ground again on her backside.

She's not the only one in the vicinity fast enough to switch to another location before someone could realize it.

"Little One, are you prone to falling on the ground?" He quipped innocently, his hands hidden underneath his cloak and his face stoic but the amusement was clear in his eyes if one is observant.

"Grr!" The girl growled, cheeks flushed in frustration. "I said get out of the way!" In the motion of rising up to her feet, her leg was arched to roundhouse his waist. If only she had been a lot taller, she might have aimed for his head.

In smooth movements, he _glided_ backwards at the appropriate distance that left the space between boot and robe only 2 inches apart. Her momentum still brewing in her leg, she remained in one foot and arched for another kick.

He didn't allow her the satisfaction and instead pushed her with a hand as soon as her eyes were off him. Just a little push, as harmless as a childish prank. Of course, with momentum present it would only lead to her falling on the ground again.

"That's the third time, Little One." He reminded, letting his tone be laced with the voice of a grandfather remarking the repeated mishap of his granddaughter.

"GRRR!" That growl was very comparable to a lynx caterwauling. Impressive. "You asked for it, mister!"

She whipped out the knife holstered behind her waist. This little one sure had the nerve to whip it out against someone like _him_, especially when he's far more experienced than her by a large margin. The little dance continues, consisting with her trying to hit him with either blade or kick while he dodges them without any kind of trouble. Her skill with the blade seemed above that of an amateur, but she's still an amateur as he could easily deduce that the girl is far more accustomed to running than fighting. Though the look in her eyes told him not to lay too much underestimation, this girl had a fire within her.

And then she tripped on the pale thug's form still down on the ground. "WHUA!?"

Of course she fell to the ground again, this is the second time she landed on her front.

"Do not make me mention a 5th time, Little One." He's starting to wonder how long will this game last. He hoped that it will just for a bit longer, this is getting entertaining for him.

"Damn it!" She raised her face from the ground and glared at him once again, "My name's not Little One, its _Felt_! Why do you keep on getting in my way!?"

"I told you, I need answers." He informed, crossing his arms under his cloak. "Someone like you seemed to know a lot of things."

"Why'd you pick me out of all people!?" The girl named Felt rose up to her feet, looking up to his looming height with an irate glare. "Don't look at me like I'm some know-it-all! I only know what I know! Look up a librarian if you wanna know something!"

"I'm not asking for much, mind you." He replied, an even look in his eyes. "Unless you're implying that you know nothing more except falling flat on your face every time you confront someone. If that's the case, how many times has it been till now?"

The color of pure red flashed on her countenance's skin. It was amazing how his mind immediately started comparing it to an apple, as if Felt was trying to become the fruit purely out of willpower.

His stomach boiled with laughter and betrayed no indication of himself having a lot of fun. He was right to assume the girl to be adept with magic, as he had felt the mana gathering around her form. He complied with the motions, readying a protective spell that could easily eat away the energy comprising the attack before the worst could land on hi—

"Hey!"

Spell preparations were halted from the both of them, their attention turned to the newcomer from the opening passage of the alley and Emurdol found himself turning his interest from extracting information to revel in the sight of a _white_-_haired_ girl in a white dress that was extravagant without being too restrictive in movement wearing a face of righteous anger.

Not a fellow Priest of the Serpent, but somebody that reminded him of his moronic friend.

"Ah! There you are!" The newcomer pointed at Felt, who instantly abandoned the spat to quickly jump to the wall and crawled up to the lip of the roof before disappearing.

Turns out this girl's far more interesting than the little one. She must be Felt's theft victim.

"No! Wait!" She sprinted after Felt, her heeled boots clicking against the stone tiles as she ran past him and faced the wall, eyeing the last place the thief was last seen. Then her shoulders sagged, as if resigned. He assumed such a thing to be the case. Unlike the little one, this girl did not seem like the type to run around rooftops and jump from walls like a human feline or an assassin from the Organization of Witch Hunters that continually hunt his kind.

Instead, she turned her fierce _purple _eyes to him.

Oh, it seems he's now picked as the acceptable target to be considered an accomplice to Felt. Oh, why is he not surprised?

"You! Hand over what you and your underling have stolen! Right this instant!" She demanded, leaning forward towards him, showing that this girl meant business. Whatever was stolen sure seemed valuable to her.

"You misunderstand." He coolly pointed out, taking one small step back. "I work alone, and I consider myself a third-party in whatever this situation between you and that Felt girl you were after."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "If you consider yourself uninvolved, then why do you know her name?"

"Because she pointed it out to me." He answered very matter-of-factly, fighting to keep his voice leveled and not sounding like he was condescending her. It's too soon, "She couldn't stand me calling her 'Little One' all the time."

"Then why did you even talk to her? Were you planning to do with her? Who are you anyway? Why do you look so pale? What are you even doing here in the alley?"

He just realized that her ears were _pointy_, almost like the race that communed with the dense forests of the east. This girl did not look like any of the ones he have met, and her attitude is beyond such types. They were not so interrogative, and _loud_.

"Instead of asking me questions, shouldn't you be making haste and catch the girl before she gets too far?" He suggested helpfully, raising one silver eyebrow, "The more you spent your precious time with me, the more likely you'll no longer be able to get whatever is stolen from you back."

His point was enough to snap the girl back to her original objective, making her gasp in realization. "Oh no! I've wasted too much time!" She twisted around, regarding the area Felt took to escape. "Aw! And this place is closed-off! I'm going to have to take the long way around! Excuse me." She said as she swerved around him, going to the path he took to enter the alley.

As his face was no longer within the girl's sight, his smirk is finally released, threatening to split his face in half at what he planned to do.

"Sorry….." The Mischievous Spirits he beckoned from the Spirit Realm complied with his wishes, manifesting their forms into the soil.

The passage the girl took was instantly blocked by a barrier of bones, jutting from the ground like a morbid representation of a sapling rising from the soil at a single instance. Femurs, ribcages, spleens, fingers, spines and skulls interlocked together like a tapestry of fine quilt, the formation making it even impossible to climb unless one is very athletic.

His excitement is flowing throughout his bones and his entire body shook under his cloak from the sensation as he let his hood down, letting his long silver hair loose and allowing his hearing to be unimpeded, "….but I actually have some business with you, Dear Girl." The energy he had pent up inside his body stirred, churning like the contents of a cauldron that's soon to be well-done and served. His clawed gauntlets poking out of his cloak, they emanated a ghostly blue, his hair floating as if underwater and his green eyes flashed bright underneath the shadows. "And I will not accept a 'no'. Resist and I will use force." With a flick of his wrist, a large glowing snake fang flew out of his hand like a dart towards the back of her head.

Unsurprisingly, the attack was blocked by what seemed to be a frozen shield that appeared literally out of the air like a pane of glass before it was gone.

"It seems I was right to assume that you aren't as helpless as you seem to be." He remarked, hiding his hands once again and readying a stance underneath his cloak. Outside his cloak, he merely looked like he was standing perfectly straight.

"It seems you truly are as unsavory as you look." She turned slowly and faced him, not at all perturbed by the skeletal wall behind her and the fact that she was just attacked. Most people would panic, especially when _he_ was the cause. Even by his people, he was quite popular for such introductions. "And I suppose that you are what's responsible for what happened to them." She gestured to the three incapacitated forms on the ground.

"They deserved it and they are not worthy of your concern." He pointed out, his hand poking out of his cloak and readying another fang above the palm. "Your concern is _me_." He blew into the tooth and it flew once again.

The glassy protection conjured itself again before the girl, easily shattering the projectile like before.

"My turn." She said and green diamond-shaped stones came to be from the air around her. With a silent prompt, they flew like an arrow towards his position.

"Hmph." Taking a long stride forward, tilting his head slightly to the side and panning his shoulders 20 degrees to the left, the projectiles passed by his form harmlessly and shattered into shards as they smashed against whatever surface they hit behind him. He scrutinized her, "That better not be your best."

Her eyes narrowed, "That is not the worst a Spirit Mage can do." More green crystals came to be around her and they shot forward quickly, more crystals appearing and propelling forward in rapid succession.

Crossing his arms behind him underneath his cloak, he took simple steps in evading the streaming projectiles. Each one is either too far to hit him or they grazed his cloak but not hitting him still. Her aim is remarkable, that is a fact but that's what makes it easy. So long as one has a good aim, their trajectory is readable and predictable.

This dance seemed to be far more energetic than that little frolic with Felt. For one thing, the number of crystals thrown his way seemed to be increasing in density and firing rate in each second: a circumstance he can't trust his keen eyes to deal with. He can't trust himself to last longer before the girl exhausts her magic either.

With a snap of his fingers, a skeletal stalagmite exploded out of the stone tiles beside him and blocked a crystal from landing against his forehead, shattering it to pieces. The girl's amethyst eyes went wide at the sight, unable to continue firing from her shock, likely having never seen such morbid application of magic in her life. A common occurrence. His people's magic are rarely ever seen, even if they are well-known and wherever this place is, it is _not_ familiar with his kind. She deserves credit for maintaining her composure at the bone wall minutes ago, however. She must've seen much more than a simple magician taught by a teacher who never showed her the reality of a fight like this if that's the case.

2 more erupted from the ground, coming from his left and the other behind him. With a simple jerk of his head as if he was nodding, the sharp points snapped off, separating from their extensions and tilting in the air as they floated until their business ends are aimed at the girl.

"Wha…." The disbelief is clear in her voice and in her eyes. "What kind of magic is this?"

"The kind you will _never_ hope to have." He said gravelly before raising a sharp finger up. "Ha." He waved his finger downwards and the skeletal spears shot forward.

This time, the icy shield activated itself before the bone spears were as close as 5 inches like before. With her hands shot forward, a larger barrier blocked the attack, shattering the projectiles into dust and little pieces of shrapnel upon impact despite the sturdiness and power behind them. The effort of blocking seemed to have put a bit of a weight on the girl but besides that she was unfazed.

Narrowing his eyes, the skeletal stalagmites extended to extra lengths at the flick of his wrist, their blunt tips morphing into a sharp point before snapping off and darting onwards. Deciding to step it up a little, he let 2 more erupt from the tiles, increasing the number of spears flying. The girl did nothing but hold herself in place, her ice shield tanking every projectile sent her way with a firm and focused expression on her face.

"I think this is getting a little too one-sided."

The bone spears suddenly held in place, as if surprised at the arrival of a new voice as much their wielder. Emurdol looked around him while his senses flared to locate the owner of that voice. He isn't sensing the foreign element anywhere.

"Over here." The new voice called out and it was coming from the girl's direction. His attention was suddenly drawn to a grey cat with a miniature bag slung over one shoulder, floating in place beside the girl's head. "Hi~" It greeted with a wink and a cheeky pose.

To say that he was gobsmacked is too much of an understatement. His stoic expression had cracked, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly gaping, "What…the hell…._are_ you?"

"My name is Puck! I'm a Spirit and this girl's overprotective guardian!" Its tiny form began to shine a light green, and suddenly he could feel the shift of mana in the air, gathering towards or displacing away from the girl's direction. He wasn't sure which. It was a sensation he hadn't felt once. Suddenly, the air began to shimmer and a countless number of green crystals came to be in a fan-like formation above.

"You're a _Spirit_?" He asked in visible disbelief. The revelation was inconceivable. His experience with spirits had never occurred like this, not even once. Spirits were volatile, self-serving and purely unable to sustain a physical form.

Seeing one consider itself a _guardian _to a girl was a violation of his entire impression on their kind.

"Try to keep up, Mr. Bones." It taunted, swinging its arms in a throwing motion, the crystalline projectiles descending down on him. "I'd be disappointed if you fall to this after putting up such a show!"

He swiped his wand out of his belt, spinning in a blur in his grasp before whipping it horizontally in front of him.

Noise exploded like a bomb. The bones that blocked the path; the pieces of bones that littered the ground; the bones serving as ammunition for his spears: they disintegrated, flying towards his location like rubble sucked to a tornado and they circled his form protectively, a cyclone of deathly design that served as a better substitute to a shield, tanking the crystals thrown his way.

"My! That's an impressive spell!" The so-called Spirit complimented, "However, how long can you hold that up, Old Man!?"

Old Man, pfft. No matter the place, no matter the location, that impression would always come back to haunt him in the world above the Underground Society he lived in where appearances meant nothing in regards to beauty or capability.

Needing only memory to know the location of his foes, he sprinted forward, the bone cyclone keeping up with his speed and closing the distance between him and the girl. With a crashing sound, the cyclone dispersed at the front, revealing the shock on the girl's face as he reached for her with a clawed gauntlet.

"Nope!"

His eyes widened at the force that slammed against his exposed bone cuirass, breaking his momentum and sending him stumbling back. There wasn't any pain but the simple fact that he was _hit _at all was shocking in of itself. How did she even see his next move coming?

"Looks like you forgot I was here, Old Man!"

Oh, of course, the so-called Spirit was still there. It must've predicted his actions, saving the girl from being cursed with his mana drain and immediately ending the fight.

Covering his front with the cyclone again, he looked down on his chest to see it crystallized at the center due to what hit him. Lightly growling, he drained the mana contained in the crystals before crushing it in his hand, its rock-like integrity lost and having only the fortitude of wet gravel.

Maybe a change of plans is a good idea.

Snapping his fingers again, he willed his entire twister of skeletal protection to gather in front of him, twisting, rearranging, forming, expanding, morphing into a shape in ways it was not possible for parts of the human anatomy. Femurs merged together, a shoulder blade expanded past a normal human's size, a skull was formed from fingers, ribcages and 5 skulls.

The spectacle concluded with the creation of a hulking humanoid skeleton. Stocky arms far longer than its legs, with a torso that was big enough to fit a dragon's heart and an enormous head that was nowhere close to a human but an ape, complete with canines and incisors made from pieces of ribcages, it seems he still got it.

The Bone Golem. It had been years since he had last created it due to its brittleness despite its size, but that was due to the many tainted creeps he faced in his tainted homeland having enough strength to kill 10 humans with one blow. With this construction against someone like this girl, it'd be an even match. It's not like the girl wishes to be underestimated, does she? He doesn't think she's weak. She's _gifted_, for one thing if she can block one of his bone spells that easily without buckling down on her knees. It always works on the first bullet.

The girl looked at his creation with both proper awe and apprehension but the Spirit was only fascinated, as if presented with a painting or a sculpture, "Whoa! Impressive artistry there, Old Man!"

It's clearly not taking this battle seriously unlike its 'charge'. He's not sure whether to be amused or to be insulted.

So he let fly a flurry of teeth from his wand towards the being while the Golem lumbered towards the girl, its hand raised up to crush her. The Spirit dodged his projectiles, returning fire with its own while it kept zigzagging in the air, never staying in one place for too long to avoid getting hit. Emurdol's barrage of teeth didn't let up either, making little movement as possible while dodging and letting his teeth fly sporadically in their attempt to hit the Spirit.

Sending another wave of teeth, he whipped his wand downwards and the ground exploded once again as 5 enormous and elongated skeletal arms shot out from the earth and made a grab for the spirit. Small and nimble, the Being was able to avoid their clutches, slipping out of their grasps every time fingers were about to close around it. Thankfully, it wasn't shooting its crystals anymore.

The loud thump of a skeletal arm meeting the ground drew his eyes to the battle between the Golem and the girl, noticing that the construct had lost its right extremity from the middle of the upper arm with a shade of frost coating the cross-section. Having no nerves to feel pain nor the mind to notice its loss but only an instruction to follow, it swung its remaining hand towards the girl. The latter shot a bullet of frost towards the elbow, amazingly hitting its mark and easily detaching it to the ground due to the weight and exertion.

"My girl is amazing, isn't she?" The Spirit asked, prompting him to lean his head back before a crystal bullet nailed him in the temple. "She's got enough spunk that even if you were fighting us seriously, you'd still have a hard time against her."

….it noticed?

Turning a glare towards the Spirit, Emurdol realized that the skeletal arms had been frozen in a crystalized prison, stuck in place like an image of its futile struggle to complete the instructions handed down to it.

"I can read minds, you know." The Spirit pointed out, tapping its head to illustrate as if he didn't get it. "Since the start, you never intended to kill us, did you? You just wanna play around, get to know each other with an exchange of punches and magic. I admit that this is a bit too much, don'tcha think?" He felt the ground shake as the Golem collapsed on the stumps of its knees, the lower legs frozen and shattered to pieces before its head met the same fate, trapped inside a frozen sphere with a gaping jaw as if screaming in its icy demise.

The construct tilted towards the ground and its head is rendered to pieces against the tiles.

"Now then, do you want to go for more?" The Spirit asked, creating a cloud of crystals behind it, literally blotting out the source of light coming from the sky and shadowing him.

"Or do you wish to surrender quietly?" The girl added, her hands held out in front of her while a number of 20 ice bullets floated around her form like an outline.

He pursed his lips, shaking his head at himself. These two are far more formidable than he thought. If they are capable of fighting as one, then he should release a few restrictions of his power just to gauge their strength. That would be something to experience.

Brewing some energy into his wand, lightly waving it in a small circle beside him, the ground shook again as the second most-unused construction is tearing through the earth to meet the surface above.

"It seems you still want to resist." An icy shield conjured in front of the girl's palms, forming a practical diamond shape. "Be prepared, Hooligan."

Hooligan. He huffed through his nose, fighting back from turning it into an audible scoff. Compared to the many insults and names thrown at him from the ignorant villagers who know nothing of his kind or even understood them, this one felt so much like a compliment. The vocabulary this girl has sure seems endearing. He's got the feeling that he'll like the girl once he's in a situation where he isn't trying to kill her.

The quake began to increase, the girl beginning to tremble in place uncontrollably while she struggled to keep her balance together from the shaking and the sound of panic and crashing emanating from the streets not far from the alley they occupied.

"What is happening?" The girl muttered, staring worriedly at the direction of the sounds of panic. "What have you done!?"

"A certain someone desires to meet you." He answered, continually waving his wand in circling motions. "Forgive her rugged appearance, she has absolutely no time to clean up."

In a cloud of dust, the cause of the quake bursts from the ground behind him like a snake exiting its burrows to strike at prey in sight. The skeleton of a subterranean dragon rises up, having no legs, arms or even a ribcage, it is nothing more than an absurdly long spinal column with a cow skull as a head the size of a carriage, muddled with dirt, mud and roots from its passage. It would have been a gigantic snake had it been alive.

He nodded at its wondrous design, satisfied that he still got it. "Hello again." He told to the new addition to his party as it hovered its head beside him, as if to lean an ear to his words. Its empty eyes were like the void as it stared back at the girl's purple orbs, "I have before you some new acquaintances to meet. Know them well."

With its instructions clear, the skull shot forward with its spine trailing behind it, the remainder of it still buried in the soil as its jaw snapped open and—

"That's enough!"

It immediately froze in place before it crashed its face into the icy shield, intending to break through and bite into the girl's slim little neck.

Turning around to face the passage to the alley behind him, with the skeletal wyrmm following suit in motion, he beheld the fourth newcomer. These interventions are honestly starting to become annoying.

Though the light have left the front shadowed, it was easy to pick out certain details of the person. It was male, the clothes were white, the hair was red and there was a broadsword strapped to the hip.

"Seems like such a commotion is happening here." The man began, walking onwards to the scene with an air of confidence and soldierly stride. A guard, most definitely. And likely one that has more experience in the field of work than the average one from the looks of it. Interesting. He doesn't sound old for such an impression to come into his mind.

"Who are you?" He asked, tightening his grip on his wand underneath the cloak.

"Then allow me," The man placed a hand to his chest, his gaze fixed on him as he bowed. "My name is Reinhard van Astrea of the line of Sword Saints. Due to the panic running rampant in the streets, I had to address the cause of the matter. But I wasn't expecting such a sight to be the reason."

His instincts are telling him to retreat, and he can see why. The energies in the air seemed to be gathering around the man as if they revered him. He's dangerous. Absolutely dangerous. He wasn't expecting the strong to be congregating on him so soon. He's not ready for a confrontation that demanded all of his strength. This is not the ideal place to be, and he's not desiring destruction at the moment.

"If it's not much trouble for you, Ser, please surrender and order your subject to step down and return to the earth."

Such a polite use of words, even though this situation is anything but.

Anymore fighting and he'll really be worn down. He should just leave, and besides, he's already got a plan formulated during that little game with the silver-haired girl.

"I'd rather leave than surrender." Emurdol pointed out, grabbing on to the edged cranium of the wyrmm as it neared beside him and lifted him up high until he laid his foot on the edge of the roof. He turned to the girl, staring her down as he donned his cloak's hood to shield his head from the sun, "If you wish to find your thief, Dear Girl, head that way." He pointed a spiky finger to the trail of energy visible only to him that seemed to go on into the distance, with an arch on each space between roofs to indicate that she jumped across them to traverse.

He left a tracking curse on Felt the sooner he held her ankle, a very useful spell in case your foe manages to flee. "And as for you, Ser Reinhard." He turned to the Sword Saint descendant.

"Yes?" The man asked, his handsome features now visible as he now stood in the place he once was, the shadows of the buildings allowing Emurdol to see him clearly.

"Keep my subject company." With a soundless roar, the Wyrmm descended down on Reinhard. By the time its head was removed from its body and was sent flying to the wall, Emurdol had already disappeared like a ghost.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

In the darkness of an isolated alley, located far from the bustling streets, a soft chuckle emanated from the corner, belonging to a man seated atop a box, twirling a little object between his finger and thumb as he eyed it with interest. His hood has been set down, revealing his pale hair and his wrinkled face, giving him the impression of age and experience but his emerald eyes showed a youthful energy, twinkling with mischief and enjoyment.

In his grasp was an insignia, no bigger than a coin and shaped like a curved triangle. Engraved in its center was a tiny red gem as small as a large ant, surrounded by ornate designs of gold, almost in the shape of a dragon curling as it prepared to release a breath of fire, the red gem representing the inferno. Clever artistry.

Emurdol Viandegroc's amusement couldn't be any clearer as his chuckle slowly became a subdued laugh, unable to stop due to how hilarious it was. He had cursed the blond little thief's right hand, making its grip slack and unable to hold on to the trinket for too long until it slipped out between her fingers and landed into his hands before she realized it.

"I wonder how long till that Felt girl realizes that her prize is no longer with her." He laughed again, imagining the little one's face getting redder than an apple upon finding out. It could become purple instead like an eggplant. His laughter slowly rose in volume but he held it down before it could get loud enough.

Feeling satisfied as he released a relaxed sigh, he stood up and pocketed the insignia before heading out to the exit of the alley. Waiting patiently for as long as 21 minutes as he leant against the wall before the opening of the alley that led to the streets, he finally found the silver-haired girl going on her way on the sidewalk with a purpose, heading to the direction he pointed. So far, she's still oblivious to the fact that he has been watching her ever since escaping, tailing her, watching her movements and was not impressed to see her not asking around for information of the thief before actually heading there. It shows the girl's lack of caution and control of impulse. What if the information he gave was false? The interval of altruism for the sake of a lost child in the midst of her search, however, paid her well with the information she needed, along with a small flower to give a bit of flair to her white dress.

It seems good deeds are rewarded in this foreign land. He felt cheated. She had white hair like him and she's rewarded for her actions. He tries to before whenever he's outside the Underground City and people would just run away. Still, he got something planned to make his entire day better. He hoped to see it to the end.

He smirked, patting his pocket, "And I wonder how long till this Dear Girl realizes that what she's looking for is already with me." With that, he turned around and headed back to the alley, his cloak allowing him to merge with the shadows, hoping to reach Felt before the girl did.

He chuckled once again: By the Dragon, this is going to be _fun_.


	2. White Bones and Black Steel

"Such an unfortunate district." He muttered silently, emerald eyes scanning over the misfortunate surroundings around him as he passed through without a hurry. He had theories regarding that Felt girl's origins, considering that such a spirited-looking girl would be brought down into stealing but he should have known that she hailed from the impoverished parts of the kingdom, even though he considered the possibility with her worn-down attire.

He's been following after the curse trail, hurrying as much as he can without looking like he's in a rush to be ahead of the white-haired girl. Out of the busy streets of the city, crossing through a forest, he soon ventured into the slums that was located at the edge of the Kingdom he's in, inhabiting the unfortunate lives of the poor, the needy and the independent. The environment was indeed sour and bitter, extending even to the air that it's clouded with dust. Many individuals are found lying on the side of the streets, some against the walls of houses, emaciated or passed out, some resting under makeshift shelters made entirely out of branches and dirty cloth. Those who were fortunate to live in a house likely didn't get anywhere better than the rest; from what he could see from the windows and the cracks of open doors, there was very little within. Not even a chair was there.

His presence did not go unnoticed, not that it would surprise him. Poor people are always curious to outsiders, and most not so welcoming. What _did_ surprise him, however, was that those who stood on the streets and stared at him did not even shy away from him even as he passed them by. While the suspicion was nothing unusual, the boldness was quite new. Even when he revealed just a bit of his pale face and his bone armor without making it look deliberate, they didn't even flinch.

The lifelessness of the place is quite profound, not just from the lack of general activity but even the trees are bare from leaves. So much dust. Even a light step made a puff if he let his feet be seen from the cloak. The dust on his cloak is going to be a bother to clean up. Will a rain come soon? It's not like the cold actually affects him or—

"Urgh!" He stupidly bumped into someone.

"Oof! Oh my, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" The person apologized.

Holding down his irritation for not even looking at where he's going, he addressed the black-haired woman. "The fault is mine." His silver brow slightly rose in interest as he regarded the seductive attire. This woman's garb does not look healthy in such a place like this. With such a voluptuous body and a beautiful face, she'd be a target for the lustful. "You should not be wearing that in a place like this. It draws unwanted attention."

"My, concerned for me? I'm touched." This woman's voice even sounds sultry. She's completely exposed like a pot of honey to a bear's cave. "But don't worry, I'm not some helpless little girl for you to escort. I can take care of myself."

He blinked slowly as he acknowledged her words.

He can already see it. From her body language to the look in her eyes, she's truly not as helpless as she seems. In fact, many of the Resting Spirits are _screaming _in his ear right now. So many are _afraid_, but so many are _mad_.

"Agreed." He said stoically, his head slightly tilting to the side as the screaming in his ears got a bit too grating. "A beautiful flower like you…" He slowly took her long braided side-lock into his clawed grieves, brushing his thumb across the strands despite not having his skin feel it. His hand slowly raising upwards while maintaining his hold on the lock of hair, he slowly traced the dark purple flower resting on her head, caressing the petals. "….might be poisonous. A predator should watch out for your thorns."

It was only due to his iron will and constant experiences with it that allowed him to not let his face show the mental conflict happening in his head. The Spirits were chanting and rioting, ordering him to _move it._

Despite his advances, she didn't resist them. Instead, she neared herself close up until her buxom chest is pressed up against him, her delicate hands taking a bit of fabric of his cloak as her beautiful face leaned upwards to his own, both their lips barely an inch apart as she whispered, "And you don't look too bad yourself. I'd be willing to let you accompany me to my quarters and have some drinks to know each other intimately, but I have business to attend to." Though he only had her violet eyes in his line of vision, he can feel her smirk. "Maybe next time, handsome."

And then she parted from the intimate contact, going on her way past him but with her hand still placed against his abdomen, feeling the surface of his plate armor through the cloak all the way to the side of his waist, ending with her fingertips running across his clawed grieves until there were finally separated.

As she turned and headed on with light steps, he still didn't let his gaze waver from the woman until she was no longer in earshot and the screaming in his head was gone.

He reached up to his ear and smacked it, as if there was something crawling inside as he continued to head to his destination. By the Dragon, the Spirits really didn't shut up in telling him to whip out his weapons and go to town with them. They are really unlike Mother, she had quite the restraint even when she knew the kind of person that woman was.

"It seems I found myself a target of interest." He told them, his voice as silent as a breath of air. "I hope killing her will not leave a sour taste in my mouth."

His hand felt for the wand strapped to his belt. Caution is now a necessity, it seems. Not even a few hours past and he's already getting into the deep end of things. The Spirits are telling him that the woman was a lot more _dangerous _than she looks, and ignoring their warnings is a deathwish.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Hmm…." He touched his chin, his grieves preventing him from feeling the clean-shaven surface. Catching his eyes was the large two-story building with various signs of decrepitude and lack of maintenance. Aside from the broken glass windows, molds were growing on the walls and rooftops. Whatever paint left has peeled off and there's even discarded piles of 2x4 wood near an unfinished boarded window.

If this is the place Felt lived in, he would not be able to believe it. Her trail lead right into the doorstep and if she owned this place all on her own, it must've cost her quite the price. He can image the things she hoarded from people laying around like trophies or furniture.

Admittedly, he was interested in seeing the décor. A thief's home is usually disordered, maybe Felt could have a more matured sense of orderliness.

In a more cautious mindset, a thief would not let such a house that sticks out compared to the ones he passed through be left unguarded. There might be traps, not an unusual thing.

Surprisingly, he found no traps as he reached the doorway. His surprise lifted further as he heard Felt's voice inside, talking to a second person inside, talking about her day. At first it was a light conversation, a bit of a banter between a young girl and someone who's likely in his senior years but after a minute or two, there was a tone of panic lacing the little one's voice. Slowly the intensity of the tone rose until…

"I LOST THE INSIGNIA!"

He nearly broke out laughing.

Did she realize _just now _that her prize is not with her? She ran such a distance, right from the capital, through the forest, through the slums, and now into her safe haven, and she _didn't_ even notice? He couldn't believe it.

He might as well get this over with and milk out as much fun as he could.

"Knock, knock." He politely uttered before _kicking the door down_, wearing the politest shit-eating grin he ever wore as the destroyed portal created a puff of smoke upon landing. He might be from the Order that enforced emotion suppression, from inside and outside for the sake of keeping their erratic spells from going awry but after 4 years on the field of work outside the Underground City accomplishing many feats for his people, he's privileged to become his own person. He can show emotion whenever he feels like it. It's not like the elders are here to criticize his work ethic, are they?

He reveled in the look of shock on Felt's face before the recognition settled in.

"Hey! Why'd ya kick mah door down!?" The _mountain _of a man yelled from behind the counter of a bar, reminding him of the people from the frozen North.

He turned to the little one, "Good afternoon, Felt." He greeted, still smiling darkly. "How have you been on this fine day?"

"It's you, isn't it!?" She pointed at him accusingly. Doesn't beat around the bush, does she? "You were the one who took it!"

"Took what? What are you talking about?" He asked, his curiosity half-true. It's part of his people's code to _never _lie but he has his ways around that. It's not like Felt showed him _what _she stole, right?

"You know what I'm talking about! The insignia! You have it! I'm sure you do!"

"And what makes you think I have this insignia you are talking about?" He asked stoically, his insides literally boiling from his pent-up laughter. He was glad that he's went through this many times that he kept his voice from cracking with ease, "What I wanted from you in the first place were answers and you ran away before I could get them from you." He shifted in place, crossing his arms underneath his cloak. "Unless, of course, you don't wish to admit that you just possibly…._dropped _it, perhaps?"

Her cheeks flushed, clearly stating that he nailed this one right in the head. Such a girl, pointing the blame on someone else even though he did nothing but play around with her. It's not like he did anything _too_ harmful, he only pushed her, that's it. "Sh-shut up! I didn't! I was so sure that I put it in my pocket!"

"Without even double-checking or even considering the fact that you were jumping around too often that it might have slipped out from your erratic movements?" He asked rhetorically before shaking his head in mock disappointment. After placing the broken half of the double doors against the open passage way, he walked towards the bar, bringing out a bag of his currency in hand as he did. He never left his gaze on the little one's own, practically staring her down, "I cannot help but begin to think that thievery is not fit for someone like you."

"This isn't my first job, y'know!? Besides, it's not like I have a choice, do I!? In my shoes, you wouldn't have any too! If I didn't, I might just sell my body instead!"

His gaze hardened, "I'd kill the very first person you would sell yourself to before you get the chance, Little One." He placed the bag atop the counter with a jingle, perking Felt's ears as she definitely heard the coins rattle inside. He turned to the large elder, "I will pay the damages for the door with 10 silver coins, Ser. Pardon the rude entrance, I just couldn't help myself." One of his unfortunate flaws in his work ethic, causing an unnecessary ruckus in most of his entrances, contributing to his reputation as somebody who leaves a grand impression. Most of his brethren would settle for quick and silent operations, less of a hassle if done correctly.

"Geez…" The giant scratched his bald head. Emurdol couldn't take his eyes away from the red tattoos on the left side of the forehead for a moment. Is this man truly _not _from the North? He may be too large even by _their _standards but he just couldn't get the resemblance out of his mind. "I thought you was gonna be some nutcase lookin' fer trouble but at least yer payin' for it."

"Hey, Grandpa Rom!" Felt called out his name. So this hulking old man is Rom, huh? They don't seem to be related, judging by their body sizes. They could just be close despite the age difference. "Don't start taking his side all of a sudden! You can't believe what this guy just did to me!"

"Avoiding the bigger issue, Felt?" He asked, turning his green eyes to her as he placed coin after coin on the table. "_If_ it's even an issue to begin with. Why not just steal another one? It's not like some insignia would do you any favors, unless you plan to look pretty with it or sneak into the organization it represents."

"Hey, somebody is _paying_ me to steal that! Besides, it's not just any insignia! It may look small but it's a lot more valuable than it looks!"

His hand froze from laying down the last coin for a few seconds before setting it down, his amusement suddenly gone. Pocketing his pouch back to his side, he asked with genuine wonder, "You were _paid_ to do it?" That was outside his expectations. This was not part of the planning. Oh dear, this could go wrong if he doesn't think it through quickly…

Felt crossed her arms over her flat chest and nodded, "That's right. My client told me that I'd get ten holy coins for it."

He huffed lightly from the payment rewards. 'Holy coins', what kind of currency is _that_? "Not that you have the item now, do you?"

Her eyes widened again before she began to fume, looking down on her knees bitterly as she sat on the stool, muttering about the kind of trouble she'll be getting when her client comes.

Goodness, she _really _doesn't know a damn thing, does she? If only she asked the right questions, he might have told her that, _yes_, he does have the item with him.

By the way, when will that white-haired girl come? This should've been the perfect moment to step in. Didn't she already have a lead from that fruit vendor? Maybe she's late. She'd better be, otherwise this thing's not going the way it should be for him. She better not be getting lost in the slums either, he had high hopes for her and he expects her to uphold them.

"Here ya go, Felt." Rom poured what looks like milk into a cup and slid it towards the little one's reach. "Another one."

Still pouting, she took the cup in hand without looking away from the ground, "I told you, it's bitter, Grandpa Rom…." Despite that, she drank the thing whole and quickly emptying the cup.

In a quick glance, he looked over the entirety of the interior: this place does not seem like a safe haven and more like a shop. There were weapons, armors, jewels, stylized pottery, ornate shields, gold chalices, and other valuables. A loot house, perhaps?

"Hmm." He silently hummed, resting his elbow on the counter and supporting his cheek, spinning a silver coin idly while staring into space. Deciding that it was getting stuffy and there was no use being secretive at the moment, he let his hood down, freeing his white tresses. It felt like heaven, the damn thing was getting heavy after 3 or more hours of wearing it after that scuffle earlier.

He heard a deep hum in wonder, "Ya sure are sportin' some interestin' looks there, buddy."

He continued to spin the coin, not giving the remark any mind. He's used to it, "Thank you."

_Spin…..spin….heads._

_Spin….spin….heads._

_Spin….spin…._

"White hair, pale skin, and yer face looks too sharp for regular folks...ya look like ya come from nobility."

_….tails._

"Incorrect. I look down on nobility. I despise royalty. And I _hate _politics." He said it all in an emotionless droll as if it was a repeated sentence, continuing to stare into nothing. "My people are always as pale as the dead and as sharp as knives. We were born this way, made this way, and are proud of it."

_Spin….spin….tails._

"Hey." Felt called.

_Spin…..tails….spin…..tails._

"What's your name?"

_Spin…spin…..spin…heads._

He looked to the side, staring back at blood red orbs, "Emurdol…." He let his eyes flash green, eliciting a flinch from her. "….Viandegroc."

_Spin…..spin….._

"That's quite the name there. Never heard anythin' like it. Where ya from, eh? From the North or something?" Rom asked, leaning close as he rested his massive arms against the counter. Each one was as long as Felt's upper body and bigger than his head.

…._heads…._

"Underground." He answered, opting to give the most common knowledge known to common folk and never about the explicit details, hoping to keep his people's fearsome reputation and secrecy intact for the sake of their safety. "Wherever this country is, it doesn't know that _we _exist. And I intend to keep it that way."

_Spin…..spin….._

A knock came from the broken door, jolting Felt from her seat.

He slammed his palm on the coin before raising it up, gracing him the side of heads. Smirking freely, he stood up and went for the door. "I'll open it for you."

"No, wait!" He felt a tug from his cloak, stopping him from moving any further. "Don't! It's gotta be my client! I can't face her without the insignia!"

"I don't think that's my problem, Felt." He pointed out, "Besides, you can blame no one but yourself for your lack of attentiveness." He then began moving forward, easily slipping his cloak out of Felt's grip as if her hands were oiled and easily reached the door in two strides. Though to the giant and the little one, he might've looked like he was gliding when his feet isn't even visible.

With his hand on the door grip, he slowly pulled it close.

"Wait!"

"Too late~" He said in a singsong as he moved his body out of the way and let the door slam to the floor once again, puffing up the dust on the floor, making sure that the person outside sees Felt first.

And then…..

"Found you. This time, you're not getting away." There's the white-haired girl he was expecting. He forced back his victorious smile, keeping it hidden behind his stoic mask as he glided back towards the stool he recently sat on. "Ah! It's you!"

Oh, she noticed him? He kept walking to the stool, "Good afternoon, Dear Girl. Took you long enough to come here." He then took his seat, not facing the pair of eyes that's boring a hole into his back behind him. "But that's not important anymore." He gestured to Felt, who stood up stiffly. "She's all yours."

"Y-you set me up, didn't you, Old Man!?" Felt accused.

Goodness, these accusations sure keep coming from that girl. And did she just call him 'Old Man'? "I technically _did_ but I was never specific. I merely pointed at where you went, she merely took her information on where you live from a fruit vendor." He pointed out, motioning to the person at the door.

"Wait, how do you know that?" The dear girl asked.

"Because I was tailing you." He answered matter-of-factly, still not facing her as he interlocked his clawed metal digits on the counter. "Now are you going to keep inquiring about my actions or are you going to reacquire your stolen item back?"

"What? Oh, yes. You there, return what you have stolen and I won't have to hurt you." He felt the mana in the air shift, the telltale sounds of crystals coming to be from the air gracing his ears. "Return my insignia. It's very important to me."

"I can't! Because…because…" Oh my, Felt's struggling.

"Because?"

"Because I lost it!" She actually admitted it, quite the _humility_ this girl has. "I must've dropped it while I was running…"

"What?" There was the horror in the girl's voice. He could practically hear the gears in the girl's head turning at the possible consequences, whatever they were, "N-no! I refuse to believe it! You could just be lying! Tell me the truth! Right now!" He could hear more crystals being conjured. She's getting desperate~

"I'm telling you! I lost it! I-I'm sorry! I wasn't bei—"

"Do you even know how important that was to me!?" Oh dear, the girl broke out shouting. He nearly flinched from the outburst, "Don't you know why I even had that insignia with me!? Don't you realize that—"

"**GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHA!‼**"

He lost it. He couldn't take it anymore. So he broke out laughing raucously, loudly, throwing his head back as his white hair hung behind him like a curtain. He lightly thumped the counter as his stomach began to ache, his guffaw bouncing off the walls of the loot house. He could feel the odd stares of the three around him, likely thinking he's starting to become a madman.

Soon after a single minute and a dozen more seconds, he released a sigh of relief as the mirth left him and faced the two girls, swiveling in his seat. "Ah, I had my fun." He reached into his pockets and brought the eponymous item out, drawing gasps and shocked looks from both women.

Oh, this is _so_ wonderful! Their faces, so priceless! Ha!

"AH! I knew you took it from me! You lied!"

He turned an incredulous eye to Felt, his stoic mask away for the moment to reveal a condescending look in his eyes, "Lied to you? When you accused me, I asked you why you thought it was me. You never answered it. Had you simply pressed me on, I would have submitted and gave it to you."

"Un, what's going on?" The white-haired girl asked, looking at the both of them oddly, her confusion rising to new levels. "What happened? And when did you have my insignia? I thought you two didn't worked together."

He sighed lightly through his nose. This girl can't seem to remember much, does she? "And that fact is still true. I work _alone_." He raised the insignia up to eye level, "How I acquired this is not important. What's important is that you're here. As to why I even hid it from Felt and you, it was to have a bit of entertainment at the expense of both your predicaments." He let himself smile, expressing how it went for him. "And I was not disappointed. Now that it's over, I should be giving this back to you."

"Eh?" The confusion rose even further on the girl's face. "What?"

"Damn you, Old Man." Felt cursed grudgingly.

He stood up, "Now that you're here, I'm going to give this to Felt."

He deftly placed it on Felt's hand.

"Eh!?"

"WHAT!?"

"What the!?"

By the Dragon, why is this so damn funny!? This has got to be the second stupidest thing he ever did and the looks on everyone's faces, especially Rom's, did _not _disappoint! Oh, he loves his job!

Fighting back the boiling laughter and keeping his face leveled, he swerved around Felt till he was behind her. "And now, you two have to fight." He placed his clawed hands atop the little one's shoulders and pushed her forward.

"Wait-wait-wait-wait!" He let go of her. "Just what the hell is going on!? Why'd you give it back to me!?"

"I have the same question." The girl commented helplessly, still confused, "What is going on?"

"I'm just making sure you get the privilege to earn your prize by your own hands, Dear Girl." He answered in a matter-of-factly tone again, "I'm not so audacious as to get in the way of your right to claim what's yours."

Felt sputtered even further, looking at him incredulously along with a glare as she swiveled her stares between him and the girl.

"Huh?" Goodness, this girl still doesn't get it. Is she still not over her confusion? Does she have to hold his hand to get it? "W-what?"

He sighed, deciding that it's hopeless to get the desired reaction out of her. It was fun anyway, he got what he wanted. Now to bring the conclusion of this complete bullshit of a situation he just created….

He opened a bag that was slung to his back, allowing the dust inside to slip out and powder the floors underneath his cloak. Gliding forward, standing beside Felt, he said, "However, you and I still have unfinished business. Ser Reinhard's interference was not supposed to happen." Snapping his fingers, the _bone dust _that littered the floors rose up as if swept by the wind and they gathered together in the air beside him, solidifying into one matter, creating a slim and smooth spear made entirely out of someone's leg with the foot replaced with a spearhead. "Be prepared, girl."

An indigo-colored glint flashed in the darkness behind girl, as if it was a blade reared back to—

"Right shoulder." He said quickly before letting the bone spear shoot forward like a bullet, whipping past the girl as she side-stepped its trajectory and it stabbed into the wooden wall, its spearhead piercing through and jutting outside. His target had already jumped upwards, nimbly twisting in the air with the dark cape flying behind before setting _her _feet on the ground, body slouching forward with the arms hanging.

He recognized the revealing attire, the dark hair and the purple flower immediately. His eyes flashed green once more, this time of pure malice. "You….!"

"That was a close one." The Spirit from before emerged from behind the girl's nape, looking at him appreciatively, "I didn't even see that one coming, thanks, Old Man." It thanked, giving a tiny thumbs up with its cat-like digit.

"Thank me when this is over, Spirit." He demanded without looking away from the assassin, waving his right hand in a pulling gesture and the bone spear on the wall flew to his hand obediently. "This woman deserve to _die_."

_Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer._ That's what the Spirit's keep yelling at him when he conversed with the woman the first time, and now he's willing to satisfy their bloodlust.

"A Spirit…That is a Spirit, isn't it?" The assassin rose her slumping body upwards, her voice remaining low and sultry, and the look on her face revealed the sick desire to give pain to others as what the Restless Spirits from before had warned him about in a chorus of screams. "How wonderful. I haven't dissected a Spirit's abdomen before."

Killing her is definitely a must. Her Soul would definitely have some interesting stories to tell once he imprisons it just like the rest. He can only hope to enjoy it when she falls under the scythe.

"Hey, what do you mean?" Felt asked.

"We can hardly negotiate if the item's original owner is here." This was Felt's client? How careless of her. "So I have a change of plans: I will slaughter everyone here." There's his cue. He has all the prompt he needed in order before given the right to take a life without any impunity. "You failed to see your job through to the end."

One step forward, and then the floor cracked underneath his sole as the distance between him and the woman was halved in an instant, his spear morphing into a scythe as he swung for her head. The latter elegantly ducked under the sharp end and twirled to strike at his abdomen. His free hand shot out to grab her wrist, letting go of his bone weapon as it pierced into the ground, stuck, and he landed a roundhouse kick to the waist, sending her tumbling on the floor before skidding to a stop on all fours.

She raised her head up to look at him, the seductive look on her face never left, only getting aroused as if the kick turned her on. "You got me, Handsome."

A split abdomen. That's what the Restless Spirits' consistent cause of death was. It holds to a simple conclusion: this woman was a serial killer. The sort of scum that his Order _absolutely _hated. He had no love for such types either and he intends to make her suffer just like the others before their demise.

Picking up his scythe, he wrenched it off the ground and added shorter blades below the one above along the shaft, turning it into a weapon that was fit to deliver supreme pain and copious amounts of bleeding instead of a quick death.

"Such power…what kind of magic is that?" The scum asked as she rose to her feet. "It catches my eye."

"The kind that will rot your bones and break your flesh." He answered darkly and gravely, never hiding his spite in the least as he closed the distance again as he took another step and swung directly downwards. The woman flipped backwards to evade, cartwheeling to the side and crawling on the walls as he swung after her, leaving broken wood and scratches behind him. Even with his finesse with the cumbersome farming tool, this woman is _slippery_. "You will intimately know the Order of the Serpent's magic before I take your Soul for myself!"

"Oh, a Secret Order?" The woman guessed in wonder and child-like interest, her voice maintaining that seductive inflexion even as she was flipping away from his skeletal weapon. "I feel honored to witness your arts in person."

"You have not seen everything, bitch." Now backing the woman against the wall, he spun in place and swung horizontally. She ducked underneath the blade as it sunk against the wooden surface and she swung again for his abdomen. Seeing it coming, he snapped the pole in half upon landing his weapon on the wall and, in a split second, a small bone shield conjured itself into his bracers, blocking the strike, fragments flying from the impact and allowing him to send another roundhouse kick to the waist, sending her tumbling away.

"That's the 3rd time." He said icily, the bone fragments on the floor floating up to his shield and reshaping into a small scythe in his hand. Grabbing the halved scythe behind him, it shifted into a smaller version as well before he charged, the dual bone arsenals crossed in front of his chest before he threw them. Lithely, the woman stood to face the side and both weapons passed in-between her.

He smirked; big mistake.

The weapons exploded like a shrapnel bomb, lethal fragments flying in every direction, creating holes on the walls, splintering wooden furniture, embedding into the floors and crumbling into dust before any could harm anyone that's not the assassin.

The result was as gruesome as the damage potential implies when someone is buffeted with fragments flying at top speeds. The most prominent detail was the blood that sprayed everywhere, a result of the woman's body being blown to pieces. Chunks of meat are present too, some lying on the floors while some slid down the walls from a hard splat, leaving red trails all the way to the ground.

To his surprise, the woman lost only a left arm. Usually, those of the receiving end lose more than one limb, and most of their insides. The woman, while filled with holes and bleeding a pond on the floor, with a face ruined to the point of being unrecognizable, was amazingly intact in comparison to his usual victims. With her clothes ripped and tattered along with her cloak, bones were visible through the open wounds, organs either shredded or pulverized, and her guts are spilling out too, just as what she had done to her victims.

"Y….you…..you just…." He can hear a voice stricken in horror. Felt, most likely.

"I pity your choice of employers, Little One." He told placidly, facing her with a nonplussed look, the front of his form splattered with blood as well as a few chunks of flesh. It created a slightly terrifying image on his person. "I would doubt that knife of yours and your meager fighting ability to be useful against her."

"But _boy_, you messed her up!" The Spirit appraised with morbid fascination, "You practically broke her into mush!"

"Puck!" The dear girl reprimanded, "You should not say that! It's too harsh and disrespectful!"

"But still…" Only the old giant seems to be calm despite the occurrence of violent magic, "…least she's dead. She was gonna kill us, after all."

"And she killed hundreds more, merely for the _pleasure_ of seeing their insides." He informed, reaching up to wipe off the chunk that was sticking on his pale cheek. Once he did, he curled his clawed digits, the metal creaking under the pressure and the wicked smile crossed his lips. "Now….where were we?"

"W-what?" The dear girl was taken off-guard by his change of demeanor. "What do you mean?"

"First Ser Reinhard, now her." He nodded to the corpse behind him, "These interruptions are starting to annoy me."

"Huh?" By the Dragon, can't this girl get the damn hint already?

"Geez, Old Man, you're still gonna go for it?" He was only glad for the Spirit's presence. It's the first to get what he meant, not expressively threatened and only crossing its feline arms. "Do you have a grudge against us or something?"

His eyes flashed green, annoyed, "I'll have you know that I'm past my second decade…." More bone dust spilled out underneath him, forming into large fangs that revolved around his tall form protectively, promising anybody that came close immense pain. "….and just before I begin, this is nothing personal."

The Spirits screamed something to his ear.

Oh yes, he forgot.

"By the Dragon." He uttered irritatingly before suddenly swinging his arm behind him, the flurry of teeth crumbling to dust and solidifying into a flying spear before blasting a hole into the floor where the corpse was. The bitch was no longer there, instead the latter nimbly jumped in a flip and landed gracefully back to the floor before she could suffer the punishment, arching her back and moaning sensually.

Her clothes are still tattered, her form is swathed with blood all over, but her wounds were closing, _rapidly _at that. Even though this wasn't the first opponent with such a quirk in their name he ever faced, he still couldn't believe his eyes.

She had her severed arm in her hand and she reattached it to her shoulder. He watched the flesh merge together impossibly. Testing its ranger and motion, she turned to him. "Ahn….that felt…_horrible_…! I've never died like that before…..!" She informed, breathing heavily and her cheeks flushed hotly. By the Dragon, it reminds him of somebody he tortured, killed and imprisoned before. It ignited a murderous instinct in him but he suppressed it.

"Whuagh!?"

"You're still alive!?"

Ignoring Felt's and Rom's shocked reactions, Emurdol only had a certain remark to mention, "I thought you were merely bleeding."

"I was….but I didn't die, that is." The woman drew out her kukri, spinning it around her fingers with uncanny ease, barely even putting effort into it as she eyed him like a lover. "And you are full of surprises, Handsome. That really spooked me."

Growling and leaning forward, he once again closed the distance in an eye-blink and he was not surprised to see his diagonal swipe of his weapon being blocked. With a long kris in his right hand, a wavy knife of shining steel, meant to leave grievous wounds if it ever sunk deep into flesh, he brought the memory of his knife-fighting training back, executing the starting swipes; left, diagonal right, vertical right, stab, spun before switching to the left hand. He and the assassin traded slash for slash, sparks erupting from every collision of both metals, neither giving the other any ground for an opening. A swipe for her legs and she back-stepped out of the way before going for his exposed head. He leaned back, swinging the knife at the same time towards her outstretched arm—

—and began walking away.

The assassin did evasive maneuvers reflexively before her mind realized that her foe was not following up with another attack. Her expression cracked to reveal another besides amusement, glee and ecstasy: surprise. "What? Where are you going?" A genuine question.

"To the stool." He answered very matter-of-factly, trying not to take note of the equally shocked or incredulous faces of the others. He turned to the cat, feeling too proud to refer to the being with the way it called itself, "_Fay_, now's your cue. Expend all that mana you gathered."

"Ahaha!" The being laughed, "That was the most audacious move one would ever make to an opponent! You sure are interesting, Old Man. You got me starstruck with those bones flying around. I hope I return the favor with tricks of my own."

He settled back to his stool, resting his back against the counter before placing one arm atop it while the other playfully spun the kris into blurs and resting his ankle atop his knee as he felt the mana take shape into crystals that filled the air. Their numbers were plenty, counting up to 40.

"We haven't introduce ourselves, haven't we, Lady? My name's Puck." The numerous crystals descended down on the woman, "Remember my name in the afterlife!"

Dust gathered as the barrage landed on the woman, the sound of ice gathering and hardening filling the air as she was imprisoned within.

"Did they got'r?" Rom asked, eyes wide at the easy victory.

"Like hell." He replied. There's no way it's ever that easy to end a fight with just that, especially if the opponent is somebody that's more than she appears. And his suspicions were correct. The ice prison was starting to crack, shining from within as the same voice started speaking again.

"It's a virtue to be prepared." The prison shattered into a million pieces before fading into nothingness and the sight of the assassin covering herself with her cape graced his eyes before the cloth disappeared in a flash of light. "I didn't want to wear it since it was heavy but it certainly served its purpose."

So, a cloak woven with magic to shield against one spell. Hmph. It surely didn't work on his. Those sickles were made from actual bone, not from mana.

With a flourish of her weapon, the woman advanced on the girl with terrifying speeds that matched his.

He thought he should intervene but when the girl conjured another icy pane of protection that blocked the knife coming for her head, he figured that he should leave the whole fight to the pair. Swiveling on his seat to face the counter, still spinning his kris, he realized that Rom had retreated to the side next to Felt. He mocked a pout, "No bartender to serve me something cold to drink?" His question was muffled from the sound of conflict happening behind him, ice embedding into the ground and continued banter between the spirit and the assassin.

"For a girl, you're surprisingly good at fighting."

"Well, it's been a long time since anyone referred to me as a simple girl."

"From my perspective, most people I deal with are babies. But still, you're so strong I'm nearly pitying you."

"To be complimented by a Spirit must be quite the honor for me."

He tried to ignore it but he was slightly surprised that he could hear the bitch talking from the _walls_, even as she dodged every crystal bullet thrown her way. Was she scaling it again? She must have amazing grip with those hands, crawling on walls like a spider. Considering who she is, the comparison wouldn't be far off. She's an attractive woman with a knife hidden behind her back, anyone caught in her web is bound to be eaten.

Oh, he could feel the mana gathering towards the girl again, and the amount this time is quite intense, enough to eat up nearly the entire interior of this building's worth of energy.

The battle fell silent. Did they stop firing? He turned to the assassin and he found her foot encased in crystals to the floor, pinning her in place.

"My foot."

"I wasn't just throwing those things around in random, y'know." Puck pointed out.

"Does this mean I've been caught in your trap?"

"Goodnight!" He felt the massive eruption of mana energy come from the girl's last position, creating a powerful jet of pure crystal, representing a battering ram propelling at massive speeds onwards to the assassin with enough force to even destroy the door behind her. The effect was immense as it was preceded by white light, and it incased the interior of the building with sheets of ice.

His eyes widened as the woman actually _dared _to let her foot be shredded in the motion of escaping the trap and jumping out of the ice attack's way, letting blood flow from her leg and flick out into the floors and walls before landing in a not-so-elegant poise to the ground.

"How lovely. I thought it was over for me." Not the most ladylike conduct he's seen in the Above-World. It was a common assumption that only men would go that far. This woman is clearly a deviation, and that makes her more dangerous.

He heard a hushed conversation between Puck and the girl. Turning to face the two, he was just in time to witness the spiritual being fade, its miniature form becoming transparent that he could see the wall through its furry body. In a flash of mild-green light, dispersing into little balls of light before gathering to the gem hanging from the girl's choker.

Did the being exhaust itself? Maybe maintaining a corporeal form has a time limit for Spirits. That's one thing to remember from now on.

"Going away?" He snapped his attention back to the assassin, watching as she grabbed a piece of the crystal formation beside her and placed it against her injured foot's sole, creating a makeshift shoe. Tapping it against the floor, it showed that she regained her mobility. "How unfortunate." She charged towards the girl at breakneck speeds.

Gripping the hilt of his kris, he turned his head to the opposite direction just in time to see the dear girl shield herself with the pane of ice again and a single crystal floating behind her. The assassin circled around her rapidly, striking with her knife at any opening she saw only for the girl to block with either the green crystal or the pane of ice.

He can tell that it won't last. The woman's speed was increasing, the slashes getting too numerous for the girl to keep up. As the exchange proceeded for as long as almost a single minute, the rhythm was finally broken as the assassin spun at blurring speeds around the ice pane and kicked the white-haired girl in the side, sending her flying to the counter, only to land gracefully in a crouch, holding her side.

Like a spin-top, the assassin spun at impossible speeds until she reached the counter and slashed vertically at the girl's position, which she dodged by jumping away and unwittingly slamming her back against the shelves. She collapsed on the floor and the shelf contents buried her in a cloud of dust.

Well, that wasn't graceful. And that happened almost right beside him, not that he flinched, of course. Without hesitation, he swung his kris at her and it was subsequently blocked, sparks erupting from the impact, all while he didn't leave his seat.

The ground shook as massive footsteps stomped on hardwood floors, belonging to the giant that was Rom holding a massive spiked club in his massive hands for an attack. "Here I go!"

"Oh my!" The assassin leapt away as the club swung at her last position. He found himself impressed with the speed of the swings despite Rom's size. It seemed as if he was swinging a toothpick. The gusts of wind that came with it brought a nostalgic feeling as well. Truly a good reminder of Northmen strength. "Isn't it a little rude to cut in on the dance?"

"Hey!" He heard Felt's voice call out to him. He turned a bored eye towards her.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice barely above the scuffle happening behind him that he was almost unheard.

"Aren't you gonna do something!? Why are you just sitting there like nothing's happening around you!?"

He easily suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, "I've done my part, Little One. The Dear Girl has done hers. Rom is doing his. Now it's your turn as well. Be prepared."

"But—"

Whatever she had to say, it wasn't able to continue as the entire building quaked from the destructive blow of a club destroying the entirety of the crystal formation, sending more than a few objects of value falling from the shelves as well as making every table and chair bounce. He turned his eyes to Rom and he found the assassin _standing _atop his club with apparent ease. "What the!?"

"It's because you're so strong that I could do this!"

The purple blade was coming down on Rom's exposed neck.

"Not happening!" Felt yelled and he watched her thrown blade spin towards the assassin, hitting the descending blade and sending it off-course to slide on the side of the giant's neck. Blood spurted uncontrollably as the large man fell to the ground like a boulder, shaking the floors once again as he lay still, blood pooling below the neck.

"Grandpa Rom!"

That was an impressive hit from the little one. He saw it for sure. The assassin's knife completely missed the vital area. There's still a chance to save the giant. Someone of that size needs a whole lot of blood to keep himself up and that amount of bleeding doesn't look fatal to someone like Rom.

"You bad girl." The assassin now had her sights on Felt. The latter now began to shake in fear. He could see it. "You have neither strength nor resolve to fight, you should have just stayed in the corner looking small."

He clenched his fist on the counter, the metal creaking against the tight grip. _Come on, Felt. Move it. Fight back. Use that fear to strengthen your movements and fight back_.

The woman was beginning to close the distance between her and the little one, simple steps taken as the violet weapon was slowly raised up, ready to end a life. And _Felt's not even moving away._

_What is she doing!? For all the spunk she showed earlier, she's now frozen in _fear_!? Come on! Move it!_

The blade swung down.

_Damn it._

A boney hand shot out from the hardwood floors, its length as long as a tall man's leg as it grabbed the assassin's wrist, stopping the blade from dropping any further to reach Felt's head and distracting her long enough for him to walk up and deck the bitch right in the chest with an armored fist. The woman's feet slid across the floors and she hit the wall with a loud thud. A crystal was coming to impale her head from the left but it was easily deflected, recovering from her hit quite easily.

It seems the dear girl has recovered. No wonder he has high hopes for her rather than Felt, she knows how to fight and she doesn't know when to quit. One of the many things he can admire from Above-Worlders.

While the two resumed their dispute, he'll have a word with the little one.

First off, "AGH!" He slapped her with his armored hand. She should be grateful that he's not utilizing the claws at the fingertips. They're not just for decorations, after all.

Secondly, he grabbed her by the vest and drove her to the wall, pinning her there as he raised her up, her feet dangling off the ground.

"Gng…!" She grunted, pained tears leaking out of her eyes as she looked at him with shock and newfound fear, "What're you….!?"

"What?" He said with a cold tone, his eyes glowing a violent green and casting a horrifying image on his face, "You ask me 'what?', after you just stood there like an idiot instead of striking back or moving out of the way?"

The fear was clear in her eyes, stuttering as she tried to find the words to say, "I-I was…."

He pulled her close and slammed her against the wall again, no longer lifting her up and instead letting her feet feel the ground. "You got two choices, Felt." He told, his voice a malignant hiss, piercing throughout the noise of conflict happening behind him and reaching her ears, "You be useful and fight. Or, be useless and _get the fuck out_. I will fight her and I don't want your pathetic behind hindering me or the girl by being a distraction." He said with full finality before releasing her.

Twisting around, his cloak flying in the motion, he drew out his two of his signature weapons. A pair of sickles in each hand, curved like crescent moons with black steel glinting from the limited light, souvenirs from his adventures outside the Underground City.

While the assassin was occupied attacking the unbreakable pane of ice, he struck, his weapons motioned for a scissor maneuver. Seeming to have sensed his presence and intent, the bitch turned around and moved out of the way. Not allowing her to go far from his reach, he advanced with a spin, his weapons slicing through the air dangerously before swiping both down at once. His weapons were held back as the knife stopped both from skewering her eyes.

"Move it!" He barked, his voice a guttural growl. "Felt, move your damn ass! NOW!"

The little one needed no other prompt. She bolted up to her feet, springing and moving so fast that the untrained eye could not keep up with her, she high-tailed to the window.

"You think I'll let her escape?" With _one _hand, she held back his sickles with the knife while the other drew out a small knife from her hip. As she threw it over the blade lock aiming for the thief, a skeletal stalagmite rose up from the ground to intercept it, saving Felt from a stab in the back.

"HA!" He roundhouse kicked her again, but this time she blocked it with her knee and kneed him in the gut, sending a wave of shock across him.

She actually _hit _him. Well, congratulations. Not enough to beat his record of the hits he managed on her.

"That's the first time in a while that someone has made me feel a little angry."

"Savor it." He emotionlessly said, spinning the sickles in his grasp for a bit. "Rejoice, for that one single hit will be all the effort you'll ever manage." Another flash step and he barely chopped her head off with a scissoring cut as she bent her body backwards at the level of her knees before spinning in place and swinging a knife to his neck. Bringing up one hand to block the attack, he brought the other to sever the arm.

He failed to see the kick to the back of his head coming. Disoriented, his feet brought him towards the wall without the slightest stagger until he rested his back against it to get his senses back together.

"What was that about being the only effort I'll manage?"

"Shut the fuck up….!" He growled, his grip on the sickles tighter than ever as the swooning environment began to settle.

"Don't forget about me." Oh, that stupid white-haired girl. She shouldn't be announcing herself like an idiot if she's going to attack someone from behind. He wasn't surprised when the icicle bullet was sliced apart as if the assassin was swatting a fly.

"I've grown tired of that game. Do you think you can still keep me entertained?" That smile. That voice. She's _provoking _him.

The nerve this bitch has to taunt a Priest of the Serpent. In times when it happened, the choices of a fitting punishment are endless.

"I'll show you FUN!" Revealing the entire front of his bone cuirass as he swept aside the front of the cloak like a curtain, he charged with quick steps and sparks flew when sickle met knife. A swing to the shoulder, the violet knife directed the swing downwards, creating an opening to his head. He kept her from taking advantage of it by his other hand swinging to intercept the strike, parrying it upwards and allowing him to swing horizontally with the other sickle. She dashed backwards before dashing back forwards, nearly shredding his entire torso if he hadn't crossed his sickles together to block, sparks erupting from the contact.

The second swing coming his way was intercepted, by an accurate shot from an icicle from the girl.

Uncrossing his arms, he spun in place like a windmill, his blades cleanly bisecting a nearby chair and leaving several lacerations on the bar counter without impeding the speed of his deadly twirl in the slightest. The woman had jumped over him, landing outside his reach and placing him in-between the two women in the room so there wouldn't be any support coming from the girl unless she tries the risk of hitting him instead of the assassin.

Slamming his foot down to stop his movements, he twisted sharply and swing both sickles to the left horizontally. As the assassin back-stepped out of range, he swung one sickle back to the opposite direction. She ducked underneath it, his other hand quickly swing to the same direction—

The wrist was caught in her hand.

"Got you."

And it was severed from the elbow with her knife.

His eyes widened in complete shock. Outside of his control, his other arm struck back in a return swing, only for it to be severed as well, landing on the floors with a thick metallic thump before he was kicked in the chest hard enough to send him sliding backwards. Right beside the girl.

"Oh no!" He felt concerned hands lay on the back of his shoulders, "Your arms! Are you alright!?"

He didn't reply, only taking his time to acknowledge the situation he was in. As he did, _dirt _fell out of the stumps of his arms.

"What is this?" Elsa wondered, picking up the severed metal hand and looked on as more dirt poured out of the cross-section as she tipped it over. She turned her eyes to him. "What are you?"

"Is this…." He saw the girl place a hand below the cross-section of his elbow, bits of the substance landing on her palm from his peripheral vision, "…dirt?"

"I'm glad…"

"Hm?" The bitch tilted her head as his low voice reached her.

"I'm glad the Order taught me how to let the very earth come to life." He commented, his voice toneless but full of authority, demanding to be heard and paid attention to, "I'm glad I taught myself how to recreate bones from dust."

The dismembered arms twitched, as if forcing themselves to stay alive and active, defying death's grip. The dirt on the floors and on the girl's palms began to levitate, defying the gravity of the world.

"I'm glad that I suffered this incident many times before. I'm glad that I don't need a smithy to repair these arms anymore."

A _second _pair of arms emerged from his cloak, reaching to take large folds of the dark fabric before pulling it off his head and stashing it inside the bag strapped to his back. He can feel the eyes of both women widening as they took in his entire form bare for the world to see.

He wore simple plate armor, tinted black and strapped comfortably against his gaunt form from torso to hips, built from the metals of the north. Light but durable. Just the way he liked it. But an entire set of bones framed his entirety, as if his skeleton was placed outside instead of inside. A full ribcage surrounded his entire chest, complete with a spinal column that lined the middle of his back. What should be the pelvis is replaced with a boney belt, a long-dead creature's spine circling his waist while a skull with extra-long incisors served as a buckle. His pants, completely covered in black armor of necromantic design, were lined with fingers bones from thigh to ankle, human skulls covered his kneecaps and there were two femurs placed on both sides of each leg, attached to the skulls as if to function as a fitting swivel for the knee.

The detached arms flew back to his stumps, the discarded dirt slipping into the cracks and filling the interior to the brim before the distinct _click_ of metal sliding in place pierced the stiff air.

"I'm glad the bones inside were already spread apart. Saves me the time from repairing them back together again."

But the entire armor in his person paled in comparison to the one detail hanging from the level of his shoulders. He had _6 _arms. Each wearing a matching pair of clawed gauntlets, one pair was recently repaired, curling fingers experimentally before hanging loosely from atop his shoulders; another pair hung behind him, likely his original arms, interlocking fingers behind his waist before they unraveled, glowing in swamp green energy while one hand took the bony wand with a skull top out of his belt; and the last pair, connected behind the joint of the second pair, were elegantly crossed behind him before separating, drawing out two wavy daggers that stuck out from the downward-facing sheaths found in-between his bag and his waist, spinning like a blur from clawed fingers before passing it to the first pair of arms.

"Even so…" With a roar, front arms gripping the two krises in an inverted grip, the middle arms low and glowing with deathly arcane energy, and the back arms curling its fingers like claws before reaching forward past his shoulders, he charged with the ground shaking from the bones rising to his call from the earth, "...YOU STILL HURT MOTHER!"

In a flash, he was right in front of the assassin with 2 pairs of arms swinging in an attack, one motioned to leave a cross cut and the other motioned to grab. In a blur of black, the woman had disappeared to the ceiling, then rebounded to the walls, bouncing off the ceiling, floor, and walls before descending down on him.

Sparks of the assassin's violet blade flew as the knife hands reached behind him at an impossible range, the elbows bent fully backwards and blocking a killing swipe from landing on his neck. As the woman began bouncing all over the place again, the wooden floors fell apart as countless stalagmites erupted from the ground, a graveyard of skeletal pillars taking over the foundation of the loot house. Like traps, they exploded in a cloud of deadly shrapnel at the flick of his wrist or the snap of his fingers as soon as the bitch was near one of them.

"So beautiful! You truly are strong, Handsome." She complimented, her voice laced with both honey and venom. The sounds of bones exploded should have blocked all voices from being heard but her voice pierced into his senses quite clearly. "You're magic is nothing short of amazing. I can't help but be jealous." Three pillars exploded in unison, her presence setting them off but failing to land a single nick on her.

2 skeletal arms formed from 2 separate pillars, picking up the dropped sickles and throwing them to the owner. The back arms easily grabbed both out of the air and his defenses are fortified, now allowing him to defend from both front and back. Now no longer needing to worry about an attack coming from behind, the green glow in his hands brightened, the energies gathering to the nearby pillars of bones and skulls.

9 pillars close to him dispersed, spiraling into a clump of bones above his head like a cloud, shooting an endless barrage of teeth, claws, serrated bone, and other lethal parts of the human anatomy, artificial or natural.

The assassin, starting to become a representation of the Order of Witch Hunters that continually hunt his kind, renowned for their agility, acrobatics and prowess in silent kills, moved without stopping, evading the shrapnel stream of bones with blurring speeds as always as she ran across every available space, from floor to ceiling. With a snap of his fingers, the cloud of bones exploded, creating a large hole on the roof and sending countless fragments into all directions, littering everywhere that's not him with the lethal ends of its entirety.

"Thank you for the available cover." The woman thanked as she emerged behind a nearby bone pillar riddled from the bone storm, instantly closing the distance as quickly as he had done before, only to block vicious swipes from a sickle and a kris as two right arms sensed her presence. The middle hand flicked the wand it held and a bone spear nearly skewered her side before she was flipping away in slick backhand springs, the next stream of bone weaponry coming in from all the remaining bone pillars, their entirety slowly reduced from being used as ammunition. Swords, spears, knives, stakes, darts, teeth, and claws. The pillars creating these weapons were slowly shrinking, their integrity waning very quickly from the visibly _desperate_ attack.

Inwardly cursing and without giving it away from his face that expressed nothing but a silent rage, he was starting to realize his bad luck. His mana was starting to deplete. Before he was forced into this country, his mana was already brought down by half. After finishing his final assignment, leaving the entire reputation of his people brighter than they could ever imagine, placing them in the most venerable position greater than their rivals, the Order of Holy Knights and releasing the land from all the Supreme Sins, he needed no more replenishments as he planned to finally settle down. He had no elixirs to restore his lost mana and he hasn't eaten for more than a _week_!

If he doesn't kill this bitch sooner, then his defeat will be most certain and guaranteed. If only he could grab ahold of the woman, he could make her organs implode or even poison her entire system, sending her to a slow passage to the maw of the Dragon, writhing and choking in her own breath. Or even simply, exhume the most potent toxins out of his body and render the entire building completely contaminated and inhabitable.

But there's still innocents in the building. The old him wouldn't have cared, and he hated himself for it.

He growled balefully, the reserves of his mana nearing the limit. Deciding that it's either now or never, he will have to finish everything in one final spell. Looking over the girl once more, still hidden behind the barrier of bones he created earlier to keep the shrapnel from hitting her, he let his pillars waste away until there was nothing more. And when there were nothing more, he let his will grab ahold of _every _skeletal weapon scattered everywhere to levitate from the surface they lay on or stuck to, and he screamed.

There was nothing but a sandstorm of bone, like a twister of horrifying intensity and murderous design had invaded into the building, decimating every possible material present, from wooden tables to steel objects. He wasn't safe from it either even as he was in the eye of it. Some of the fragments flew off the terrible cyclone and struck his armor, piercing through his grieves, slipping through the gaps of his cuirass' troll bones and one even embedded itself to his shoulder. He bit back the pain, and did not try to pull them out.

Draining every last bit of his mana till he was nearing the bottom, he swung his hands apart and the cyclone held still, as if time had stopped, before the sharp ends of each fragment pointed outwards and he barked the last call. "HA!"

With the speed of an arrow, each bone projectile flew and embedded themselves to every surface possible in the building, puffing up a heavy cloud of dust and filling the air with a powerful sound of wood being crushed and pelted in a single instance.

Everywhere in his line of sight, there wasn't a layer of the building interior without a skeletal weapon sticking into it. Whatever remained of the chairs, tables, metal, stools, the counter, or anything of value is reduced to pieces and splinters. There was more moonlight breaking in as well, the ceiling filled with numerous holes from the destruction.

Despite his clear exhaustion and sudden coughing from the dust, his legs refused to give in, instead holding firm in keeping his entire upper body up. His slumping back is the only indication of his tired state. His middle arms resting on his knees, the rest of his other arms lowered with the grip of their respective weapons relieving their tension but not loose. With a gesture, the shrapnel embedded into him slipped out and crumbled to dust. He didn't bleed.

Turning his eyes to the bone wall he created to protect the girl during his merciless onslaught, he saw her peek out from the middle of a ribcage.

"Is it over?" She asked.

She's alright. He let himself release a well-earned sigh of relief.

Then his weapons were raised up again in a stance.

"Nope~"

His eyes widened in horror at that honey-and-venom voice. He turned his eyes up to the hole in the ceiling and watched as the assassin crawled inside like a lizard before dropping to his level with an elegant flip, her form showing no change on her already damaged form. Not even a new nick of injury on her blood-soaked skin.

"That could have killed me again, but it was your fault for giving me lots of cover." She remarked with the same seductive smile on her face, the sadism in her eyes becoming more apparent than it was before. "Can you still continue entertaining me? Your mana has depleted. You're tired. And you can barely keep your body up. Your age must be catching up to you, Handsome."

Damn it, even this bitch considered him an Old Man. Looks like he will have to leave it to Mother. He didn't expect to start doing it again so soon, and the last time was merely 4 weeks ago. He hoped that she doesn't ruin his body and his armor five times over like last time.

"What are you waiting for?" He hissed, his entire body slumping forward like a zombie, his middle arms sagging while the rest remained primed and ready for another confrontation, wavy knives and sickles glinting in the air as they illuminated from the moonlight breaking in from the holed ceiling. "Come closer and meet your death!"

The assassin was quick to comply, her body leant forward like his own with _two _of her signature knives in hand as she charged him. He let his consciousness fade away, letting himself submit to his tired state and as he was fully prepared to let his body be manipulated by Mother—

"That's enough."

His concentration was completely snapped as a very familiar voice erupted from the ceiling.

He was instantly brought back to an awake-state, his alertness jumpstarting as he watched the section of the ceiling between him and the assassin cave in, allowing a cloud of dust and a large ray of moonlight to break through and expose the _very _familiar silhouette of a certain Swordsman that entered from the new opening. Fiery hair. A large blade sheathed behind his waist. It's _him._

"It seems I was too late. But I'm glad that it didn't get any worse."

The visible details brought the name very quickly to his mind, "Reinhard van Astrea."

The swordsman turned to look over his shoulder, giving him a polite smile, "Good evening. I didn't expect us to meet again, Good Ser."

"No one expected you to arrive out of nowhere." He retorted, his extra arms sheathing their weapons, realizing the arrival of help. He inwardly admitted that he's glad for the intervention. He can't fight any further, his body's aching too much, and the bones embedded in him, especially his shoulder, are starting to become a bitch to bear silently. "If you are here to help, you are fucking _late_."

Reinhard chuckled sheepishly, "I can't blame you. But to compensate, I will finish this battle for you." He motion with his hand to the girl peeking out of the bone wall. "Would you kindly head over there and guard her? I'd appreciate it if you do."

Even if it was practical, it's still annoying to have someone else do the job for you when you could do it on your own. "I'll do as you say. Just end it, _quickly_!" This man carries immense power, and as bizarre as it is to him, he's far stronger than Emurdol himself.

He closed his eyes, holstering his wand and tipping his body back with his arms crossed over his chest as if resting in peace in the coffin, his form about to meet the floors, and his extra arms' joints bent backwards as they slammed their palms on the floors, keeping him elevated from the ground with his legs joining in the motion. Like a six-legged spider, his form skittered on the floors, crawling up to the walls, his form literally horizontal as his four other arms stuck to the walls like glue until he reached the girl's distance.

Seeing that he was secure behind the bone wall with the girl, he let the extra arms lay him gently against the floor beside Rom's massive body before they sagged around him as if exhausted. He can feel small hands feel his chest and head.

"Are you okay?" The girl frantically asked, her gaze scouring over his form for any injuries. "Oh dear, look at those wounds. Don't worry, I can heal you." She told him before a warm sensation crossed over his neck, the feeling of his open wounds closing the same way he would with Reconstruction.

So she knows healing magic?

"One on the left shoulder." He told, relaxing himself and fought the urge to drain the mana from the atmosphere. She's using it to heal him first. "And another on my left wrist."

"Right." He felt the sensation of soothing warmth start from the shoulder and spread all over his chest, making him sigh in content as the tension of battle seemingly left his body, as if goaded into believing that everything will be fine. His wrist is then healed afterwards when the warmth on his chest was gone. He was just about to pass out from the relief when her voice turned into a yelling prompt, "Reinhard, do it! I've finished healing him!"

His eyes shot open as _every_ mana in the atmosphere gathered to the direction of the swordsman. What's happening?

"The Bowel Hunter, Elsa Granhiert."

"From the line of master swordsmen, Reinhard van Astrea."

A bright light emanated behind the bone wall, the ground shaking tremendously.

Then came a powerful explosion that leveled the entire half of the loot house to nothing.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

When what was comparable to a cyclone's gust of wind had finally stopped blowing, the objects of the building now landing back down to the ground, his extra arms steadily raised him up to his feet, his body level with his knees before he rose up to an upright posture like a lever. His tired eyes turned to the location of the spectacle, only to see the _outside_, the entire section of the building that Reinhard faced simply _gone. _The other slum houses, the dead trees and a wide view of the night sky greeted him.

"Such power….if that woman's vaporized, it would not be a surprise…." He muttered in awe, staring up at the Moon before facing the swordsman, looking at him in a new light and allowed a wry smile to cross his lips, "If you are that strong, it may be wiser to be a friend of yours instead of an enemy."

"Well, if you want to. Sure, I have no problem being your friend." Reinhard said, his voice kind and accepting, "And you're strong yourself. I may not have seen much but looking over the handiwork you've done before I arrived, it's a clue that you're a formidable opponent. I'd hate to be an enemy of yours if I can help it."

Hmph. Strong, Modest and friendly. He was tempted to chuckle. Such qualities reminded him of Pericus, that annoying bastard.

"Oh, and…" He just realized that the swordsman was wielding one of his bone swords before it crumbled to dust in his hand, "…I may have used one of your weapons without permission and...broke it. Sorry about that." He apologized, looking sheepish as he rubbed his head.

"Hm." He shook his head. "I can just make more."

"Is it over?" The dear girl who was still on the floor asked weakly, leaning against his leg as the extreme siphoning of mana as well as healing him must have affected her too.

"Fortunately." He answered her. He grabbed both her hands and steadily rose her up to her feet, "Can you get up?"

"Y-yes, somehow…." She replied, shakily rising up to her feet and still leaning on him for several seconds before standing up on her own.

He turned to the swordsman once again, "But more importantly, how did you know hwat was happening here?"

"Well…" Reinhard turned to face behind him, looking at Felt who was peeking behind what remained of a pillar. "I heard her desperate calls for help and I did as she asked, coming here to intervene and perform my job as a knight."

An amused smirk crossed his lips. "If your occupation includes wrecking buildings apart, you have done _mightily._"

"Don't you think that's a little harsh, Good Ser?" Reinhard said, wincing and putting a hand over his chest. That dramatic action alone looked _dignified_. It was almost sickening.

"She's…" He turned to look at the white-haired girl behind him, regarding the little one with mixed emotions. He turned back to Felt, staring at her right in the eye, which she looked away from.

He let out a sigh. At least she deserved this, "You did well, Felt." Felt turned back to him, shocked. "It seems you have proven me wrong. You contributed to this conflict. I appreciate your efforts." He said honestly, even though his voice held little emotion out of habit and out of exhaustion. He _really _needed that intervention. Mother's control is not what he likes at the moment.

Felt smiled slightly at his thanks, "No problem."

"As for you…" He turned around, facing the white-haired girl. "…are you alright?"

"Uh, yes. Somehow." She answered, unsure for the sudden concern when he attacked her twice in a single day. "But what about you? Are you alright? You just used up a lot of mana with those…horrible spells and you look out of it. I'm surprised that your legs are still holding you up like that."

He sighed. Well, it's not like it's a secret anymore. She did see him reconnect the front arms and she even heard him say the juicy details of its entirety as well. He should just let it out, "It's not what it seems, Dear Girl. Just like these arms," He gestured to his 4 extra appendages, one pair was crossing its arms behind his back while the other hung loosely behind his waist, interlocking fingers. "My legs are also—"

"Look out!"

His instincts flared at the same time Reinhard shouted,

His legs and appendages sprung to life, twisting him around against his will and he beheld a pile of rubble burst apart, presenting Elsa who was formerly buried under it, the assassin coming right for the girl with her knife reared back for a last desperate attack.

Mind and body quickly acknowledging the incoming threat, he willed the arms to push the girl out of the way to take her place while he, even if he was nearing his limit, pushed himself anyway to create one last stalagmite of bones to rise up from the ground. His four other hands were ready to strike and dismember once the block is successful, but instead of that happening the slash that was meant for the girl was powerful enough to pulverize the pillar to dust and send him rocketing to a pile of rubble behind him just from the blast of impact.

That one hit felt like it came from a hammer instead of that damn knife of hers.

The back of his head had hit something hard, making him feel dizzy as he tried to see through the wobbling world, Reinhard and Elsa stood facing each other until the latter jumped away and scaled over the broken walls, saying something about bowels.

At least that's a problem out of the way.

"Ow." He rubbed his head, easing the pain.

"Are you okay!?" Asked the girl worriedly as she knelt before him, looking at him worriedly. "That was too reckless! You just used up all your mana and you pushed yourself even further! What if your gate was broken!?"

Such concerns. It's been a while since he heard them being directed his way. No one would dare show concern to somebody who looked like one of the demons he killed.

"Not the worst thing I have done." He said, slowly feeling the pain at the back of his head fade away as he felt the necromantic energies return to his legs and arms as he tried to stand up, bringing Mother back to his being. Reinhard and the girl quickly took both of his arms to help him up. Only when his legs seemed stable did he tell them to let go. "Thank you." He turned to the last place he saw Elsa leave. "Is she gone?"

"For now." Reinhard answered, looking at the same direction before turning to him with an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, Good Ser. The fault is mine for letting my guard down. If it weren't for you, this person would have been wounded, and if that were to happen, I would be underserving of my title as a knight…"

He growled lowly, waving off his guilty rant. "Learn from this, Ser Reinhard. Do not rest until you find the body and made sure it is dead. I watched people make that same mistake several times in my life and I end up being the only one who lived."

"Yes. I shall not forget your advice." The sword saint bowed, dignified in every little movement. "Once again, forgive my carelessness."

"Mm." He looked up at where the bitch was last seen, and he sneered, "If she comes back, she will not live again." He promised, releasing what should be his final sigh of relief. Thank the Dragon it's over. "Finally…" He turned to the girl, "….once again, are you alright?"

"Yes." She bowed with sincere gratitude, "You saved my life. Thank you. I'm sorry but I never got to know your name. Will you please share it with me so I can thank you properly?"

Such dainty manners. He likes her already. "Hmm." He flicked the locks on his right gauntlet open, loosening its tight enclosure before pulling it off with a satisfied sigh, making him feel the wonderful sensation of release as his surprisingly _lanky _hand, pale as snow and calloused from past battles, met the cold air. He then held it out to her, palm upwards, "Before that, why not tell me yours first, Dear Girl."

She stared at his hand, then up to his stoic face, which revealed just a bit of humanity in them, especially when his green eyes now carried a soft and gentle flare within them when they were burning with pure bloodlust minutes ago as he squared off against the assassin that wanted her life when he had no reason to defend her.

Deciding to consider his good intentions, she smiled and held his open hand with both her own. She was surprised at how soft it was, despite its cold temperature and battle-worn state, "Emilia. Just Emilia. Thank you for saving me."

"E-mi-lia…" He tested the name, and he found it really easy to pass through his tongue. "It's a lovely name." He closed his fingers and gently shook her little hands up and down before letting go and having his extra arms clap the pattern of greetings before inclining his head, "I am a Priest of the Order of the Serpent. The Third Right Claw of the Dragon. Emurdol. Emurdol Viandegroc. It is my greatest pleasure to know you."

"E-mur-dol." Reinhard tested his name, "What a fascinating Organization you belong to, and an interesting name and title as well, has quite the foreboding feeling as well. I would like to know what you meant by the part about the 'Third Right Claw of the Dragon'." He commented with a smile.

"Very well." He nodded as he crossed his arms, his gauntlet still in his left hand. "It is my earned title through the feats and accomplishments I have managed in my homeland, under the blessings of the Queen, Lady Sabarra."

"Of a different allegiance, and yet you still saved a life. This couldn't have ended well without you, Ser Emurdol." He complimented with a smile. "Anyway, I'm glad you managed to defend Lady Emilia in time." Reinhard gestured to the pile of bone dust, "That pillar of bones sure was a lifesaver. Ironic and maybe a bit morbid, but it did the job. We can be glad that we can walk away without any fatal injuries."

His extra hands sprung to life, grabbing at his abdomen, as if they were trying to keep something from coming out. "Wha…"

Then he felt the sensation of a deep cut, through the armor and into the flesh beneath. His eyes widened in complete horror. The realization made the blood spurt out dangerously through the gaps of his artificial appendages as they tried to cover the unnoticed wound: he got disemboweled.

…

….

…..

Such a sight, being looked down with deep distress and concern by the girl he just saved and the man who saved him. What a way to go, being gutted without even realizing it. He thought he would grow old, either inside or outside the Underground City, either taking an apprentice or raising a child to pass on his knowledge and legacy before either dying from violence or from the poison that tainted his body ever since his rite of initiation. He never expected to die in another land, saving a life while all of his energies are depleted.

It seems this is it, but he's not distressed in any way. He only looked forward to being welcomed in the afterlife. The Order of the Serpent never feared death, neither did he, accepting it as a part of life and regarding it as merely a thin line that separated the Living world and the Spirit World. The _Perfect _World of Knowledge and Eternity, where the Dragon resided. And now, he's going there.

_Finally._

The Unity with the Dragon. To be one with the Dragon, to rest peacefully with Her and be away from the pain and suffering of the living world, it is actually happening to him.

_Finally._

But before he must go, he will make sure that there will be no destruction following in his passing. With all the remaining strength he had and the willpower he could gather, his bare right hand grabbed the wand out of his waist and plunged his hand straight to instant decay using the energies inside it to activate the dangerous spell, sending it into a necrosis state and the rigor mortis instantly settled in, locking his fingers in place and keeping the volatile weapon in his grasp, never to let go.

"Don't…." He forced out through gritted teeth, his lungs straining to even let himself be heard. "…ever…take it…away…" He warned, hoping that it was enough to convey the message of never letting the wand separate from him for the sake of their safety.

Within his final moments before all was darkness, he saw the moon in the sky, the eye of the Serpent looking down on him in acknowledgment as if to congratulate all the things he's done in the world before he's taken home. The warmth in his chest indicated such, a euphoric sensation that heralded the moment that he'll return to _her _loving arms.

To Mother's arms.


	3. Rotting Right Hand

Mama….

….I'm sorry, but this is the best thing we could do for him.

You saw what he was _thinking _before he died back then. What would have happened if he was _awake_ when he got…..sent back there?

I had no choice. I broke my own rule so I could save him from the torment. I may not have met the Above-World for myself but I've seen enough and known enough. The others had too, but only _I_ have the mind to do what I must.

We could have went home together, you see. All of us. I have no objections, the others included.

But you know that's not going to happen. Not anymore. He's _trapped _here, and I truly do not want to say this to you anymore than the others do but let us face it. We are _not _going home together just like he planned.

The Afterlife is closed off to him, and you and I could do nothing about it.

If you want to know what are we going to do, we remain close to him just as we always had. We'll watch over him and his wellbeing will be our first priority.

**…**

Satella will pay. I swear on my Soul, Mama. The others will have to wait in line, however…you'd be the first to lash out when you get the chance anyway.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Bright lights, soft surfaces, strained breathing, a tickled face, a sore body….

…and an unfeeling right hand.

It's certain that he's _not_ dead, otherwise he wouldn't be bothered by these sensations.

What. A. **_DISAPPOINTMENT_**.

"Fucking…dammit…." He muttered, half-mournful and half-annoyed. He turned to lie on his side, trying to twist his spine and elicit a crackle from it, making him groan in appreciation.

He should have died. The bleeding should have been fatal. The diagonal cut on his belly was extremely large. His guts even spilled from it, he could remember feeling as his body tipped over backwards. He thought his death from a disembowelment was immediate.

It seems he was wrong. The people in the immediate vicinity from that loot house prevented him from falling into the pit of darkness. They shouldn't have. They _shouldn't _have.

The conclusion regarding where he is and what's currently going on are easy to make, considering what happened last night and what he knew from there. The dear girl, Emilia, _was_, after all, capable of healing magic. She had either healed him, or stabilized him long enough for a professional healer to properly heal him. After that, he is taken to an apothecary to lie down on a cot or he's sleeping on a bed inside her home.

He can guess the second one to be the case. Apothecary cots aren't _this_ comfortable. Now he's going to wonder if there's going to be some impolite onlookers staring at his lying form while he slept. Most of the time, it was children. Some other times, it was guards with their weapons pointed at his face. Mercifully, there would be none, leaving him in the presence with Mother and the other spirits. Priests of the Serpent aren't really welcome in most parts.

"Look, Dear Sister, the guest has finally awoken."

"Indeed, Rem, he has awoken."

Maybe it's not so merciful today. Not that it would surprise him. He can sense two people nearby.

Rubbing his eyes with his left hand to get the sand out before sitting up with a groan. His body is actually sorer than he expected, even his spine protested against his movements. He growled, annoyed. Dammit, it truly felt like he was an actual decrepit elder. _Fucking Poison…fucking Mana Burn….._

And by the Dragon, he's hungry. His depleted mana must've triggered it. He had shut off the sensations of hunger since his last proper meal.

He heard two sets of footsteps come close to both sides of the bed, "Ser, Ser, please don't move so much. Your body's still recovering."

"Ser, Ser, try not to exert yourself. Your body might just break on itself."

What kind of speech pattern do these two feminine voices follow?

Sitting up and scooting backwards to rest his back against the headrest behind him, his body rebelling against him once again as it retaliated by giving him aching sensations, he rubbed his eyes with his forearm one more time to get the last bit of sand out and looked on into the environment around him, squinting slightly from the bright lights piercing through the windows at the right of him.

Apparently, this home is owned by someone wealthy. Golden engravings, spacious room, an artisan's painting placed at the wall across him, even a personal bathroom, it's a giveaway. The dear girl sure hid certain details from him about herself. Looking down on himself, he found his armor gone and instead replaced with a light-blue sleeping robe, exposing much more of his bone-white skin from the chest, exposing his emaciated collarbone and ribs. Looking down on his right hand, he found a pretty ugly sight: anywhere not past the wrist, it was starting to darken from decay, his bones showing even further through the dead tissue, and it illustrated a _wasted _effort.

On the bright side, his wand is still in his locked grasp. _That's_ a relief. The dear girl obeyed instructions.

Kissing the top of the wand affectionately, he lifted up the covers to see the lower half of his body. It seems they even bothered to give him pants. Feeling the sleeve of one leg from ankle to thigh, he discovered that they took his lower extremities as well. He's back to being a stumpy bastard, legless and pathetic.

He let out a sigh, slight traces of his irritation showing through his breath as he held his wrinkled temple with his left hand.

"Ser, is something wrong? Are you wondering about your armor? We apologize but you wouldn't be comfortable sleeping with them so we removed it."

"Ser, there's no need to worry. If it's about your armor, we placed it safely in the storage. Its skeleton, however, stayed with you the whole night."

Hmph. At least Mother didn't stray far from him like always, but he was surprised that these two girls aren't particularly unnerved at the fact that the skeleton framing his armor _came alive_ to watch over him protectively throughout the evening. Either that or they are just good at hiding it.

Whichever case, it's a reassuring thing.

Oh, he just noticed that Mother, nothing more than a headless four-armed skeleton wearing his grieves and armored legwear of necromantic design, was seated at a chair near the door, resting one set of arms on the armrest while the other is crossed in front of her hollow skeletal chest. To anyone that's not of his Order, they would only see it unmoving and lifeless as if someone had odd tastes in humor in regards to pranking someone who's fresh out of sleep.

Turning to his right, he beheld a young girl, dressed in a custom-made maidservant's attire, leaning forward and resting her hands on the bed while staring at him curiously. To his wonderment, her hair was _blue_.

Turning to his left, he beheld what's practically the mirror counterpart: dressed in the same maidservant attire, leaning forward without placing her hands on the bed and she had _pink _hair. To his surprise, her eye color _matched _her hair.

Besides the hair and eyes, the only difference these two young girls was how they regarded him through the windows of their soul. The blue one's orbs were quite soft and inquisitive. The pink one's eyes were sharper, and professional.

"Compared to the things that happened yesterday, you two managed to be the most interesting sight to grace my eyes in the morning." He commented, his voice as emotionless as always but there was a ghost of a smile in his lips.

Both girls blinked, turning to face each other—and reemphasizing the mirror image analogy—exchanging thoughts with only a shared gaze before turning back to him.

"Thank you?"  
"Thank you?"

They said/asked in unison.

Yes, indeed: they are the _most _interesting. This was quite the first time he's seen such types. Now to satisfy his curiosity, "How long was I incapacitated?"

"For an entire night, Ser."

"For almost 7 and a half hours, Ser."

Okay, he can sense the pattern now. The little sister speaks before the elder, and a direct answer before a specific answer.

"Regarding my belongings. Besides the armor, was anything else tampered or touched in anyway?" That bag had more than just bone dust inside. His robes, the preserved organs, and the vials of rancid substance that could melt an entire building. There's a reason why he never lets anyone come near his equipment, not even Mother.

"No, Ser. The skeleton put them away before we could."

"No, Ser. Given the attire you wear and the magic you carry, we wouldn't dare."

That's considerate of Mother, and he continues to be impressed as these girls aren't particularly showing any signs of being perturbed by the mention of a skeleton near their distance the night before.

"Lastly: how is Emilia?" If anything, he's _concerned_. Something he hasn't felt for someone in a while. Since he got nothing better to do, he might as well let his emotions run freely for the moment.

"Lady Emilia is alright."  
"Lady Emilia is alright."

"Good to hear." Turning to the left, looking past the pink maid, he saw Mother come close, the metal boots rustling in each step. The twins quickly leaned back upright and stepped away from his bed before the skeletal upper body leant downwards, ruffling his head and holding his left hand with two right arms while the two left arms held his dead hand, as if mourning its decayed state.

Underneath her metal hand, he let himself relax against it and release a sigh of content. Even if this place seemed safe, even if he was given a soft bed to rest the entire night, even if his present company carry no ill-intent, even if he was here to recover and not to fight, he never felt secure unless Mother was nearby. He's not completely helpless without her, but the instinctual feeling never leaves no matter how much time passes. A glaring fact he cannot accept easily every time.

"I'll be fine." He replied to the concerned mumbling in his head, his words completely soundless as always towards her. "Other than me, we should get you cleaned up. That bitch dirtied you well."

The hand on his head gently smacked his hair twice before pulling his cheek fondly, the claw of the metal digit lightly poking into the pale flesh in the gesture. He was the one completely hurt the most compared to the two of them and yet he's far more worried for Mother than for himself. It amused her.

"Don't do that." He smacked her pinching hand down before leaning against her skeletal chest. "Not in the presence of these two pretty flowers." He said, turning to look at the twins, which in turn stared at him with bewildered eyes at the exchange he had with Mother.

"Dear Sister, the guest seemed to be close to the skeleton."

"Rem, the guest is emotionally attached to someone else's remains."

While it is specific, the Fair Maid did not seem like the type to hold back her words, does she? He got the feeling that he'll get along with her well. Honest people are the types he favors.

"Not the skeleton," He corrected, letting his eyes flash green, which made both girls stiffen and their eyes. Only in the dark places will his eyes stick out compared to everything else. It had a reputation to unnerve anybody not from the Underground City. "But the _Soul _residing in them. Since I cannot be hand-in-hand with the souls of the dead, a physical substitute will suffice. As for the owner of these bones…" He smirked evilly, decided to indulge in a bit of fun, "…his body was never the same after I extracted his organs and kept them for my research."

To his delight, the twins quickly huddled closely for security, fingers interlocked as they looked at him fearfully, trembling in place as they backed themselves into the pillar in-between the windows.

"How awful, Dear Sister. We have a horrible man in the mansion."

"How terrible, Rem. There is a madman in this room."

The fear in their innocent voices were like music, beautiful is the melody that he could've slept through a hard night while it graced his ears. He'll only tell them that the bones were from a stone troll he killed once he's had his fun. Such beings were aggressive to anybody that came close to their territory, annoying to deal with as well, especially when their skins were as durable as stone, hence their names.

Before he was about to go into detail about how the victim screamed his lungs out while he was extracting the intestines like rope from a well or how he kept the victim alive while he excavated every bone in his entire body from feet to torso, a familiar voice spoke from the door.

"I was wondering what was going on but apparently it was just you." Ah, it's Emilia. And this time she wore a comfortable set of wear unlike that attire yesterday. "Are you done scaring the maids, Ser Emurdol?"

He chuckled lightly, "Now that you're here, I'll reconsider and refrain from involving your dear maidservants in my amusement." He leaned away from Mother's chest and relaxed against the headrest of the bed. "It is good to see you well and healthy again, Dear Girl."

She smiled in response. "It's good to see you well too. And I told you, it's Emilia."

"Please listen to this, Lady Emilia." The Dear Maid called, pointing at him, "This man had just attacked my sister."

"Do listen to this, Lady Emilia." The Fair Maid called, also pointing at him, "This man had just pinned down and brutalized Rem."

He chuckled softly. By the Dragon, these girls' imaginations go _wild,_ and their responses makes it twice as delightful.

"Stop teasing him, you two. As much as he appears to have done anything like it, I'm sure he doesn't mean any harm." Emilia told to the twins. "He won't hurt anybody without a reason. I believe in that much. Just give him a chance."

_Oh?_

"Very well, Lady Emilia. My sister will forgive him."

"Very well, Lady Emilia. Rem will give him a chance as well."

That was too naïve of her to assume such a thing from a Priest of the Serpent. More than most of his people looked down on Above-Worlders, including himself, and he would cause trouble even without a valid reason. The treatment he and his people get from the inhabitants only worsened their views on every idiot above ground.

But still, it doesn't mean she's _wrong_. He's not in the mood to cause any more trouble than harmless teasing could do.

"Um…" Emilia called out to him, uneasily switching glances between him and the skeleton standing beside the bed. "…would you, um….tell your…friend to move away for a while? I…it's really discomforting and uh…um…."

He locked his throat so the chuckle doesn't come out of his mouth. The dear girl's reactions are actually a _lot _more delicious than the twins. Oh, he's going to have _so _much fun while he's with her. He held Mother's nearest right hand and said in a soundless voice, "Go back to the chair. I'll call you when I need to walk."

Mother complied, her arms returning to their iconic positions behind her: crossed-armed and interlocked below the waist. As she passed by the dear girl, he watched with morbid amusement as she tried to stay out of the headless skeleton's distance like it was the plague that she hit the bed with the back of her knees and landed her bum into it.

Only when Mother returned to her seat did Emilia find her senses and stood back up to her feet, albeit still casting uneasy glances over her shoulder to where the skeleton sat. "Okay, th-that was scary. How is it moving on its own, Ser Emurdol?"

He hummed before he raised his left hand at chest level, a small glow of green necromantic energy coating his palms. "Through my magic, any unanimated thing will come to life. It's what the Order of the Serpent is truly known for."

"But do you not find it disrespectful that you're using someone's bones for your dark magic?"

The same old questions from the people Above-Ground who gave him a chance instead of attacking him straight off the bat whether by words or by actions.

He sighed tiredly, "To justify, the bones belonged to a monster that terrorized the local villages after it was starving for the lack of prey entering its territory. A stone troll, to be specific. Their bones are six times more durable than a simple knight's armor." He created a single human finger from the green energy, "It would be practical to create bones from nothing but they aren't as enduring." He pointed out, punctuating his words by crushing the feeble construction in his palm.

Emilia made a fascinated noise, looking at his handiwork with childlike interest, even more when he opened his hand and revealed the lack of bone dust in his palm. "You can create bones from mana?"

He was internally surprised to hear such a non-malicious inquiry, unlike the common rhetoric questions with an undertone of spite that usually come from the narrow-minds of idiots. He answered her softly, "It is the most basic form of spell taught to me, but she's the doyen among us." He motioned to Mother. "Her creations are as enduring as an aged tree. As sturdy as stones and boulders if she's resolute. She's even capable of creating houses of bones if she so wishes."

"Wow…"

She just said the word '_wow'_. What an unusual feedback. This girl gets more and more interesting the more he talks to her.

"Wait…" Emilia turned from Mother to him, surprise lacing her voice, "_She_? It has a gender? I-I mean _she _has a gender?"

He let himself chuckle. Why is this girl such a delight to talk to? She's quite childlike for her age, "Not in the general sense. Gender is a property of the living world. When a life passes away, they become asexual as a soul. But the Soul inhabiting that frame was once female in her living life, therefore I refer to her as I would a woman."

"Once?" She parroted, noticing the implication in his words. "Are you saying you—"

"Denied her from resting in peace?" He asked, the cold tone in his voice slipping out for a moment. He will not allow her to finish that question. He's had enough of hearing it. "_No. _She came of her own will, possessing my armor and becoming my legs, allowing me to walk the world just like any other living being with a pair of lower extremities. Like you." He gestured to her skinny little legs, covered with thigh-high socks. "And we've been together since I was born. I would not part from her for anything." He'll _never _will, for she's the only person who held him up when no one else would. "Without her, I wouldn't have lived this far."

He expected an uncomfortable silence to follow, a very common occurrence when the other person sympathizes instead of being repulsed. He might as well avoid that. Calling for Mother, she stood up from her chair, the noise of clinking metal jolting the dear girl in surprise, and walked over to him once again. "For now. _We_ would like to know where we are. As a resident of this building, would you kindly lead us outside?" He politely requested, Mother standing beside him on the bed. "I'm sure it isn't as burdensome as to heal the slit on my abdomen." He pulled his collar to look down to his stomach, finding a red line streaking across from the left side of the abdomen to the right pectoral. Such a gifted healer, she is. Average healers wouldn't be able to close such large wounds that made entrails spill out.

"Oh, of course." She nodded, "It's the least I could do. And I think it's a nice morning today." She remarked, looking at the cracks from the shades.

Not that he would share her thoughts about today's weather. He _hates _nice mornings. "But first, would you vacate the room along with your Dear Maids?" He requested, his voice raised for all to hear. "To reorient with my legs is to undress. To those who added a perverted connotation to something natural, please leave for your own sakes. To those who hadn't, you're welcome to stay and see me in my entire glory." He smirked freely as he watched the twins hightail for the door, followed by Emilia, who's strangely not blushing mad and closed the door behind her.

He was disappointed for the lack of bashful reactions but he laughed lightly anyway for their speedy departure before throwing off the covers and removing his pants. It seems they let his undergarments stay with him, that's a relief. Regarding the pathetic stumps that ended just above the thigh, no longer reminding him of that horrid day in his rite of initiation unlike his younger years, Mother sat beside him as per usual. With her four arms, she effortlessly lifted him up under the arms and slotted his stumps into the openings of the armored legs. Securing himself, he leaned forward and maintained balance by placing his hands on the skull-covered knees and allowed Mother's ribcage to open like a hatch, skeletal chest gaping like the maw of a Venus flytrap. Leaning backwards, the bones closed around his chest as if a squire was securing the straps of his plate armor, the bones reconnecting and securing in place comfortably.

The familiar sensation of Mother's armor around him gave him comfort, allowing him to feel that short surge of mightiness within him. Now with functioning legs and 4 extra arms, he can handle himself even if his mana was all gone.

He rarely fights alone, after all.

Adjusting the flaps of his sleep robe that slipped into his armored legs, he stretched his arms above him, Mother assisting in the motion by bending her spine even further backwards, pulling his upper body along until he felt the delicious crackles of his bones. "Ah, that's heaven." He muttered in pleasure. Righting his posture, he regarded his dead right hand once again, still holding the wand.

Before he could ruminate over the _unfortunate _decision he made prior to passing out, Mother grabbed his wrist with two right hands while the remaining appendages secured the fist in place and pulled the wand out of his literal death grip. If there was supposed to be satisfaction felt when that weapon was forced out of his tight grasp, he couldn't sense it. His right hand's _dead_, unfeeling, unmoving and about to rot.

Transferring the wand to the right front arm, Mother squeezed his left hand comfortably while the other holstered it to his spinal belt. The back arms pulled his right arm to his back, securing it in-between her metallic hands behind his waist as if to hide it from plain sight. The front right arm interlocked fingers with his left while it was patted by the other, a comforting message along with an idea was sent to his mind.

He chuckled, though mirthlessly at what she had in mind for his situation. "It's been years since we have done that."

Mother replied, assuring him that she still got it within her.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Well, it wouldn't hurt to try again." He squeezed the metal hand interlocked with his own. "Just do not make any awkward gestures if you will, otherwise you'll put me in a humiliating position."

To portray her unheard chuckle of amusement, she reached up and squeezed his nose, which he swatted away in a fit of annoyance. In a voice that was audible and clear, he said to her, "You never quit, do you, Mother?"

She sent him the message that she'll _never_ stop as long as she's still around to watch her little boy grow up to reach his 30th turn, and she'll continue to do so even in his 80th turn.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

After requesting to be shown to where his armor and bag was stashed to, he replaced his sleep robes with his personal robe of midnight black that seemed to absorb light, knitted from the unique fabrics of the Underground City, personally imbued with an enchantment that allowed it to constantly absorb ambient mana and transfer the stocked-up energy into the wearer if he wills it. Perfect for his situation, donning it made him feel refreshed and able-bodied compared to waking up with sores.

And as a stroke of luck, the black cloak he discarded and thought destroyed from his rampage at that loot house was there! And it's even repaired! Oh joy! It may not have any enchantments nor was it any special like any other cloak, but it had value unlike any other. Thank the Dragon Emilia brought it with her.

Afterwards, with a new attire underneath the skeletal frame of his upper body, he followed after Emilia as they walked along the hallway, intending to reach the front doors of the mansion and see the outside of this building. And as they did, conversations kept going between the both of them, "What has she done while I was unconscious?" He asked, matching her pace.

"Well, after I stabilized your wounds, it….well, _she _came alive and detached herself from you." She recalled, shuddering lightly at the memory. "I was shocked, unable to believe my eyes as I watched the bones in your armor come to life but as I noticed that she was carrying you very carefully and tenderly, I knew that it was something intended. So I hurried to the streets with her following me until Ram found me. It took a lot of explaining to but I managed to convince her and have you both taken home with me."

So he missed the fun? Aw, he would've loved to see the look on that Ram's face when she saw a headless four-armed skeleton carry his corpse behind the dear girl.

"Along the way, it was a bit of a sight, you know." She looked at the arms that clasped his dead hand behind him, "You lied atop her lap, your face was at peace as she lovingly stroked your hair and held your left hand. It's as if I was watching a mother watch over her son, as morbid as the sight is when the mother is a skeleton and lacked a head."

The far more emotional bunch of his people, particularly the elders and the little ones, would have found it heartwarming, uncaring if Mother's physical body lacked a head or not. The Soul had more significance than a pathetic and breakable _shell_. He even detests his own body if he could help it.

Still, it doesn't deny the fact that the dear girl had done what she can to help him, even Mother was grateful.

"She must be very close to you, Ser Emurdol."

He hummed in agreement, "She is _very _thankful for your efforts to save me, Dear Girl." He informed. "Just for that, she will hold you in high regard and will save your life whenever it's in danger. Very few people would have the heart to save someone like me in my rare times of peril."

"No one would? Why?"

Emurdol slowly turned a wide-eyed look towards her, his lips forming a line as he could not hide his shock. Does this girl not know _anything_? Others younger than her are already told of the horrors of necromancers, false or otherwise. How has this girl _not_?

"Did you just ask me _why_?"

She held a confused mien. "Yes?"

He gestured to the ribs closed around his chest. "Doesn't the bones and a different set of arms tell you anything?"

She blinked, "Well, aren't they necessary for your fake legs to stay together with your body? Or does…um _she _help you more often and does much better with it that other people won't be able to hold a candle to her healing skills?"

He stopped walking. She did too, her inquisitive look turning into concern.

….

….

….

_By the Dragon…this can't be…_

He's suspecting something to find reason in her ignorance, and this is going to be one of the rarest times that he's hoping to be _wrong_.

"Pandemonium."

She blinked, "Pardon?"

He pursed his lips, "Pandemonium."

"Yes. Yes, I heard you. What about it?"

He frowned, and his eyes started to brighten lightly, "What is Pandemonium? State to me your understanding of what Pandemonium is, Dear Girl."

Her expression was still blank, and a frown of confusion is beginning to develop further on her pale face. She looked at the ceiling, finger to her lips as she pondered the answer. A few seconds after, she answered with uncertainty, "Food?"

…

…

…...So his suspicions were true.

The Region of the Devils, mutinied by its suffering Souls, every satanic ruler thrown out of their positions and taken over by their charges, eventually turning Pandemonium, Hell itself, into a perfect emulation of the fruitful and colorful World when the Seraphs descended from above to herald their emancipation and shared the seeds of Life to the barren Realm and its occupants.

_No one_ in his life would _not _ever know something like that. It's a knowledge all beings are biologically aware of, material or immaterial, eternally ingrained in the consciousness of those who could think.

This girl does _not _know what Pandemonium _is_.….and the equally universally-known Order of Necromagi that watched over the reformed world with a stern eye.

Another World, indeed. There is no other conclusion to make than this. He is in another World. A place that isn't Pandemonium, a place that wasn't once the Burning Hells. The air is different. The mana tastes different. The feel of the world was not normal. These were the minor discoveries after being forced in that park yesterday, and now they all add up to this.

What shocked him more was that he's _not _surprised at this revelation.

Perhaps he has seen too much of what Pandemonium has offered that his mental fortitude developed the strength of 3 mountains.

"Hm." He mentally shrugged and continued walking, draping an arm around the dear girl's shoulder to lead her along. "You asked why I regularly do not get help from others, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes. Why?"

"On the first impression, my people's usual attire is not the most welcoming sight." He drew the arm around her shoulder back to himself and gestured to himself once more, "I would be too terrifying to approach, and I expect it to stay that way. People are noisy, and I appreciate the company of the Spirits over them."

"Oh, you are a Spirit Mage like me." The dear girl chimed, smiling.

He shook his head, "By 'Spirits', I mean 'Souls'. The Souls of the Dead, specifically speaking. I am a Necromagus. A wielder of dark magic and the essence of death." It did not seem like he has _any _reason at all to conceal his origins anymore. The Order of the Serpent is not present and he's the only one of his kind in this very world….to his knowledge, at least.

"Necromagus. I never heard of anything like that before. And you said you wield dark magic. Is it the only specialty of such magicians?"

Yet another confirmation of the theory of this land being from another world. Her tone indicates clearly that dark magic isn't regarded as an ill practice to her compared to the common view in Pandemonium. You can never be too sure unless you are truly satisfied.

"Being a practitioner of such magics makes you susceptible to scorn, rejection, and prosecution in the hands of officials or not." His face remained composed as he began indirectly telling her of what he went through once he was outside the Underground City. "There are those who wield these magics for ill purposes, but that does not mean all who wield it are malign in nature and spirit. There are those who use it the same way other magical practices do; to seek knowledge and attain enlightenment. The means merely differ. Due to common people being idiots, however, they can't see the difference and instead regard every Necromagus as _evil_, no different from the hellspawn that exist solely to wipe out all that is good."

"You were treated unjustly just for that?"

"Every single one of my people had suffered the same way I had. The sooner they see white hair, pale flesh, shiny eyes and dark garbs together at once, a hallmark of my kin, it doesn't take long for a state of paranoia to run amok in one place just by seeing me exist." He ran a hand through his silver hair just to indicate his uniqueness. Throughout his speaking, his tone and expressions were consistently even despite the details, "No one would associate themselves with us nor even talk to us. That leaves only the option to look after ourselves, scrounge up whatever we can to make it through another day in a world that hates us."

He reached up to Mother's right front arm, running it across the weathered black steel before ending in her clawed grasp, clasping fingers with pale digits.

"Mother's the only one who stuck by my side since my birth. The food I needed, she hunted. The water I wanted, she dug the earth. The protection I sought, she cut down my enemies. I would not have lasted this far if it wasn't for her." He sighed despite himself, "I found very little amount of people who had more sense in their heads to ask questions before drawing a blade on my neck simply because I was a Necromagus."

He didn't need to face the dear girl to notice the sympathy in her eyes.

"Most of the idiots I've met tend to forget the simplest facts: we are no different than they are. We are _humans_ just like them, we are capable of empathy and emotion, and we have our own _culture. _We do not deserve to die just because a religious authority declared us monsters."

The rage and boiling hatred that should have accompanied this exposition did not come like it usually had. All that hatred and prejudice on his people that existed for only the Dragon knows how long is _gone _now. He _destroyed _it. He gave his people a light that they never thought would happen. All of his bitterness and silent urges for revenge held little importance now.

The Order of the Serpent will be revered forever. All because of _him_.

He turned to the dear girl, noting the blatant expression of sympathy on her pale face, "I'm sorry that you had to go through so much, Ser Emurdol…."

"Mm." He pulled her close in a side-hug, continuing to walk onwards without missing a beat in his voice, "You can do nothing for what happened, and it is useless to do so now. What matters to me now is that you _helped_ me without a single thought when others have not. Mother and I are beyond grateful." He nodded to portray that unsaid thanks. In tandem, Mother's front left arm patted the dear girl's head before clasping his dead hand again. "_Thank you_."

"Oh no, think nothing of it." She replied, slightly confused as she had to return the grateful nod back to _2 _entities. "Back at that loot house, you had little reason to save me. You didn't even know my name at the time. And yet, you saved my life, it would be natural for me to return the favor."

Her words brought back the memory of Emilia helping a lost child find her way back to her parents. Comparing what she did that day to what she just said, it almost sounds hypocritical. 'Natural for her to return the favor', implying that she will act only if something of equal value is done or offered to her. Pfft! She wasn't certain that the fruit vendor had information she needed in the first place. She'd help people even if she gets nothing out of it. Even Mother had the same presumptions. She was a girl with a too-kind heart, but by the looks of it from yesterday, she apparently did not have a lot of sense in her head.

He already got the clue that she's one of the insincere type of women in the Above-World, so far apart from the women back in the Subterranean City he lived in. They have little to no qualms about letting their thoughts and opinions be known, unlike the men who are _slightly _tightlipped and opting to be silent instead.

Then a growling sound cut the silence of the hallway. All eyes immediately directed towards his abdomen, formerly split open and perfectly healed enough to audibly demand its intake after a _week _of being deprived of it.

His right arm, Mother's armored hand acting as proxy, patted his belly, as if to silence it. He wouldn't do that with his own arm but whatever. He'll let that one pass, "I failed to mention it before but I'm actually _starving_. I haven't ate a single crumb of food for 8 days."

"What!?" Worry quickly covered her countenance, "Why didn't you say so!? No wonder you look so malnourished!"

_What_ did she assume if she didn't perceive his current body state as 'malnourished' until now? He may be feeble at the time before he was brought to this world but he's far from a weakling. Years outside the Underground City strengthened him to the point of being impenetrable, even at the worst conditions. Didn't his fight with the assassin make that point valid?

"Come with me!" She grabbed his left hand, making him feel the sensation of _warmth _from the blood rushing across her flesh. "I'll take you to the pantry!"

"No, no, no, no." He pulled her back to his side, Mother placed her left arm across her shoulders while his own is wrapped around her waist, making sure she doesn't try to go the opposite direction of where they're going just when they have walked quite a distance already, "Are the maidservant's preparing breakfast as we speak?"

"Eh? Uh, yes but—"

"Then I will wait until we are called to the dining table." He asserted, quickening his pace and forcing the dear girl to keep up under his grasp. "For now, you are to do your job and take me outside. I can suffer 2 months without food, this amount of time is trivial in comparison." Then he released her, slowing down and resuming to walk in a normal pace. "If ever I have a concern or a request, I will speak up. The fact that I haven't said anything of such is more than enough as an indication that I am _not_ in desperate need of food."

"But…but didn't you say that you're starving?"

"Your hearing serves you very well." He deadpanned, sarcastic and unimpressed, "The fact that I'm not whining about it should suffice as an excuse." He quickened his pace again, not caring if he doesn't know the way. He looked over his shoulder to her, staring flatly at her, "Quickly now, Dear Girl. I'm not waiting for your permission just to see the outside of this building."

"Ah! But you don't know the way!"

"Then try not to get me lost in this place. If something happens to me, I will hold you fully responsible for the damages."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"You will not step out of the shade?" She asked, standing outside the shadows created by the _massive _mansion behind him.

"I _hate _mornings like this." He informed while frowning, squinting and crossing his arms, slightly feeling uncomfortable as it wasn't his right arm interlocked with the left before giving up and simply placing them on both sides of his waist. His actual right arm jerked against Mother's grasp every time he needed to use it, constantly reminding him of his _mistake _even when he tried to keep it out of his mind. "As a person who lived underground for more than half his life, sunlight is very hazardous to my health, skin and eyes."

"What?" She shot him a surprised look, "You lived _underground_?"

He raised a silver eyebrow, bewildered, "Did the pale skin and silver hair not give it away?" Surely, this girl's ignorance could only go so far?

"I thought you were a wise grandfather of a magician."

…..She considered him an **Old Man**?

Now he's _very_ offended. If there's anything he could ask in return for saving her life, it's to _not _see him as an **Old Man**! Is that so much to ask!?

"I'm angry, Dear Girl. My people have suffered worse than mere words but I will not suffer you calling me old." His voice may not indicate any emotion as per usual but the furrows on his brow that created the creases and wrinkles on his face will portray the quiet fire inside him.

"But I think it's a good thing to be old!" She hastily assured him, trying to fix the damages but missing the point, "It shows your wisdom, your dignity an-and your experience with the world—"

"I'm at my 21st turn." He firmly told before rolling his eyes, sighing in disapproval, "_This_ is why I look down on you people in the first place. You are all focused on what is seen and not what's beneath."

Emilia was silent for a few seconds, feeling awkward until she asked, "You're _that_ young? But why do you have such an appearance?"

"If you question the paleness, it's my people's natural genetic quirk." He pulled a lock of long silver hair and ran his finger through it. "Humans who marry to our bloodline will eventually become pale from their lack of exposure to the sun and the continual practice of our dark arts. As for these wrinkles…" He frowned again, illustrating a point as the creases reemphasized the lines on his face. "It's because of _ignorant_ and _insensitive_ people like you. If you think all they did is sling insults at me, you are _wrong_."

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry." She bowed apologetically. "I didn't know!"

He harrumphed, admonishing the dear girl with a stern gaze. She may be a gifted mage but she's still _young_. When was the last time he's seen such a person whose age is accompanied by their childhood stupidity?

"Please forgive her, Emurdol." Oh. The fay cat, Puck, came back, emerging behind the girl's neck. "She forgets her manners sometimes."

"Hello again, Fay." He commented, nodding in greetings. The being must have stored enough mana to regain its physical form. Maybe he should've studied further in the physiology of Spirits, he just didn't consider it since _none _of them before had done the same thing as this being did, creating their _own _body instead of possessing a fitting vessel.

"Yes." Puck began to yawn, as if freshly awake. Interesting, "Good morning. You too, Lia. My goodness, I thought I lost you." He turned to him, "I can't thank him enough for saving you." It's still jarring to hear clear indications of its mentioned status as the girl's _guardian_, however. "I'll have to reward him for his hard work."

Oh?

"At what extent can you reward me, Fay?" He inquired, taking the opportunity to test the limits of the strange being's power.

"Oh, I can do a lot! I may look small and cute but I'm actually strong!" Puck winked with a pumped fist. He questions that claim but he figured to not think too much about it. The Order did taught him the facts: appearances and age meant little in regards to how much you could do. He's a prime example himself. He achieved a lot despite his youth back Underground, "I can easily make you a rich man!"

So not just a fay but a _wish-granting _fay. Hmph. When did fairy tales come true? Aside from the fact that Pandemonium was usurped by its captives. "Even if that was your choice of a reward for me, I would still refuse." He told with crossed-arms, the firmness and credibility very clear in his voice.

"_Still_?" Puck tilted his head. "What do you mean by 'still'?"

His arm jerked against Mother's grasp, prompting her to raise up a finger in his stead. He rolled his eyes before going along, "There's a saying amongst the common folk about my people." He said, remembering the words fondly. It was one of the very few _good_ things uttered about the Order from the Above-World. "_If you make a Death Priest choose a reward, they'll get tongue-tied_." He recited with a small smile, "There is also another: _If you are to reward a Priest of the Serpent, choose for them because they're irresolute._" Mother lowered her arm, "You can reward any other man with riches, but not me or my people. We have little desire for material things, and I am _very_ uncertain as to what I want….hm…" Mother held his chin, guising him in a thinking-pose as his dead hand couldn't do the same. "Would you come here?" He requested, beckoning the spirit with his open left hand.

As Puck sat on his haunches atop the pale palm, brushing his flesh with immense fleeciness, with Mother taking the chance to stroke a metallic digit across his head, he said, "I will hold you on to that. For now, I plan to indulge in your fur." Then he took the fay close to his face, rubbing him against his cheek like a stuffed animal, eliciting giggles from the being. As Mother played with his long tail using her right and scratched behind the fay's ears with the other, he scratched his fingers across Puck's belly, marveling silently at how _fleecy _his fur was.

"Looks like you two are getting along quickly. I will have an audience with the Spirits now. You two can socialize all you like, try not to disturb me, okay?" Said Emilia as she took a separate space in the shade.

He hummed, still rubbing the huggable being against his cheek, "The Dear Girl's evenings must be quite pleasant with you nearby for immediate hugs and kisses."

Puck chuckled in amusement, "Yeah, that would be something to be jealous about but unfortunately, I can only take on a physical form around day time hours. Come night, I'll be sleeping in Lia's gem till next morning."

"Hm, how unfortunate." His mournful tone was _clear_, "I was hoping for it as well."

"Why? Were you hoping to get a turn of the cuddles with me?"

"Maybe." He's never opposed to having a delightful creature joining him in his sleep. He even enjoyed it when a cat slept with him a few winters back and he never moved away from the bed, stroking its ginger furs as it slept until the above-world creature woke up and walked away the next morning. "But I would worry about crushing you instead of enjoying your company if you were to grace my bed with your presence." Including the fact that Puck's a _lot _tinier than that cat, he wouldn't be able to notice if he's flattened the fay underneath him.

"I'm actually surprised that you can say that out loud, even if your thoughts are the same." Ah, yes. The fay can actually read minds. It seems his secrets aren't safe anymore, but luckily for him and the dear girl, he's allowing himself to be open to the two in exchange for saving his life….

….even if he didn't want to be saved.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"I'm honestly amazed." He said.

"By what?" Asked Puck, sitting atop Mother's palms level with his waist while he's lovingly stroked with clawed digits, caressing his fur and scratching behind his ears.

"That someone who is not of my Order is communicating with the Spirits." While it may be true that his people speak with the Dead more often than with the living, they have no trouble speaking with the Spirits of Nature. The methods to do so are quite the same, just with different principles.

"Say, about your Order." The fay began, still getting scratches from Mother, "How many people are in it?"

"I think you misunderstand. By Order, it refers to the group of people who do assignments outside the Underground City for the elders. I'm one of those people." He tapped his knuckles against his chest in gesture, "And Lady Sabarra, the Immortal Queen of the Underground City of the Serpent created that Order, giving us a role in the World Above-Ground." Even with this information so easily exposed, it's not like it _exists _here.

Puck let out an interested hum, appraising his information open-mindedly, "Really? Are your people like you, or are they _more_ like you?"

He raised a silver eyebrow as he looked down on the spirit, "That's such an odd question, Fay. Elaborate, if you would so kindly."

"Ehehe." He giggled, right cheek gently squeezed by two clawed fingers, "I mean: are they all pale like you? Do they have white hair like you, even the kids? Do they wear someone else's bones as armor too?"

He nodded, "To each question, yes. However, the third question is up to the Death Priest's tastes. Depending on their skills with bone magic, they will either create strong and sturdy bones or fragile bones. Some other times, we just take the ones from our defeated enemies. Brittle bones are not practical as armor but it can serve well as long-range projectiles. You'd be surprised what a tiny fragment of bone could do if propelled at imperceptible speeds."

"Ah. Just like when we first met?"

He chuckled at the memory, "Exactly. Those teeth bones would crumble even in a child's hand but no one can deny their lethality."

"Sweet. And you said something about your people capable of talking to Spirits?"

"More like we speak to the Spirits of the _Dead_. And before you ask, _yes_, we converse with our long-deceased relatives as well, even our little ones are capable of doing so. It's mostly chitchat and meaningless banter but momentously, we learn and acquire their wisdom when we are deemed fit to earn them in their eyes. The dead are still capable of celebrating with the living. Whatever the humans Above-Ground do, we of the Underground do the same with our ancestors in tow."

"Hehe." He watched as Mother scratched the fay's belly vigorously, "If anyone could do that, then nobody will have to be sad anymore even if someone in the family dies."

Hmph. That had been considered by the Order, to teach their beliefs regarding life and death to the people Above-Ground, but what they experienced at their half-hearted attempts taught them very well that not everybody is accepting. "There's a reason we hid away from the world above, much less _allow _most others outside of the Order to learn from us. There are some people who just _won't _listen, and there are also those who _crumble _at the knowledge and eventually make mistakes that we have to rectify. People Above-Ground are just _idiots_."

"Well, you can't blame them, can you?" Puck asked, "Their upbringings and cultures completely clash against yours. While I won't say that there aren't people who accept your views, they're really hard to find in a crowd."

He knows that already, it does not mean he will accept it and _not _be furious, however. He may have given Above-Worlders a chance now but they're still idiots at heart.

"My turn to ask….do you, as a Spirit, truly exert yourself as the Dear Girl's _Guardian_?"

"Well, yes!" Puck happily confirmed, "She may be a contracted to me with strict conditions imposed but I still love and treasure my Daughter, Lia like any parent would!"

The fay just called Emilia his _daughter_. What has the world come to?

….not that he's any different. He had a dead person's Soul sticking close to him, helping him walk and keeping him safe since birth. He called that Soul 'Mother'. To an Above-Worlder, it would be just as incomprehensible.

And to hear that Puck is actually _contracted _to the dear girl…well, that clears up the things he's been questioning lately ever since discovering it's _physical _manifestation.

"I fancy the pet name you gave her." He told, watching as Mother played with Puck's paws. "Fitting for a spirited daughter like her."

"I like your nickname for her too. 'Dear Girl'." He giggled, "Every time I hear you say it, it makes you sound like a grandpa!"

He instantly frowned, "Watch it now."

"I'm sorry!" Puck continued to laugh, "But seriously, you sound _and_ act like an Old Man. Even if you're only past two decades, I don't think you're gonna convince anybody with that attitude and that _look_! Hihi! Hey! Why don't you take my place and I'll adopt you as my _son_, eh!? The _Dear Girl _will then have 2 daddies taking care of her!"

"I'm begging you two….!" Their attention turned to the straining voice of the dear girl, looking like she couldn't focus well on the conversation she was having with the Spirits. "Could you please not discuss your positions as my _relatives_!? It's not like I'm in desperate need of father figures, you know!"

That made him laugh along with Puck, the latter floating back to the dear girl's palm.

"It's alright, Lia. He's a good guy." Puck told to the dear girl, his voice not at all in a hush volume, as he could hear him perfectly well. Even if he had whispered, Emurdol's hearing is quite above-average for a human. A trait his people shared at the right circumstances. "I examined him very carefully and I found no malice, enmity or wickedness in him. Just look past his looks and his habits. He's clean, just like when he first met us."

His attack back in that alleyway might have been excessive to be considered play, _even_ to his people's standards, but he was never a practitioner of restraint. Though, he was genuinely surprised that the entire conversation he had with the fay was actually scrutiny in the form of a friendly conversation, taking advantage of his openness. Clever. But he won't hold anything against it. It was done out of concern for his _daughter_.

"Now, I have little reason to bear ill-will towards such an interesting _specimen_." He wore a wicked smile, "Instead of having her as a nice subject for my _research _and study about the usefulness of her _bones_, I'll just mercilessly tease the Dear Girl for her childishness and naiveté."

"Wh-what?"

"Ahaha! You've got really weird tastes in humor!" Good to know that the fay noticed the first half of his words was meant as a joke. He's certain that he'll get along with the being swimmingly. Anyone who can understand his line of thought should be welcomed as a friend.

"And you…." He stepped close, scratching the Spirit's nose affectionately before giving the same treatment to his soft chin. "…should not read my mind without my permission. If you want to know my secrets, simply _ask_. While I do value my privacy, especially to those I have known for merely less than 24 hours, I am more than willing to lay down my trust to you, _Puck_." He finally said his name. Such a simple name, but it's definitely fitting. "So, if you want to chat some more, maybe learn about me and my people, come see me in my free time. Just do not bother me in my sleeping hours." He fluffed Puck's cheeks before drawing back. He turned to the dear girl, "Of course, the Dear Girl shares your privilege. If she's curious, she need but ask."

Puck wore an unreadable expression for a second before wearing an elated face a cat could possibly make, "It's been a while I got touched like that, much less being trusted so much by someone else's secrets other than Lia. Somehow, it makes my heart flutter! Thanks for trusting me, _Emurdol_. I'll make sure not to waste it."

To hear the fay actually say his name made him smile. Not a wicked smile or the creepy one he commonly wore to unnerve people, but a genuine one. Very little people get to see it. _Very little._

"Ser Emurdol..."

"Hm?" What's with the dear girl? She's wearing an unreadable face as well.

"Did you know that I'm a half-elf?" She asked, her tone implying that she's expecting him to react harshly to it.

Well, he did pride himself in being the opposite of people's expectations. He _hated _above-worlders, after all. "Are you insinuating that I'm blind?" He bluntly asked.

"Eh?" _Priceless. _The shock on the girl's face nearly made him blow out laughing. "No! I was actually referring to…uh…"

He reached forward to trace a thumb on her right elven ear, which made her yelp and flinch from the cold temperature and cutting whatever she was trying to say off, "These ears may evade the attention of most others, but I am not most others. And if you expect me to put you in high-regard because you're an elf, or demean you because you're a _half-breed_, then expect to be disappointed. The Order of the Serpent couldn't give any less of a _shit _even if you're the High Queen or the Archbishop of the Holy Order. In our eyes, you're just another mortal doomed to die, _just like the rest of_ _us_."

As a form of display to lay down credibility and legitimacy to his claims, he let a small quantity of his necromantic energies surge out of his body, spewing out of his shoulders like a fiery aura of green and forming terrifying images of skulls as they waved and swished.

Dismissing the performance, he finished with a proud and dignified inflexion as he recited his people's creed, "_Nothing is eternal, and we of the Order of the Serpent will walk the line between life and death to safeguard the balance of all things._" Lowering his head and exhaling a breath, the professional persona left him and brought back his personal side. "To me, _Emilia._" He said her name, to gather her full attention. "You're just a naïve little girl who saved my life. Half-elf or not, you will not change the way I'll act around you."

The girl lowered her head, her expression out of view thanks to her bangs. Before he could quip about damaging her pride, her head raised back up and there was a _smile_ on her face.

"You truly are strange, Ser Emurdol." She said in a soft voice, "To know about Spirits, to hear your views and on top of all that, your honest thoughts about me, a _half-elf_…..I can't help but be happy…."

….By the Dragon, her smile _shines._

"Hm."

The sound of the doors to the mansion behind him opening drew his and the two's attention, prompting Mother to turn him around. Out from the portal were the two pretty flowers who graced his bedroom early in the morning.

"Oh. Is breakfast ready?" Emilia asked.

"Yes, Lady Emilia. Also, Lord Roswaal, the Master of the Mansion has come home. Would the guest please come inside and join him for breakfast."  
"Yes, Lady Emilia. Also, Lord Roswaal, the Master of the Mansion has come home. Would the guest please come inside and join him for breakfast."

The joints of his jaw bone instantly began to ache and the saliva flowed inside his mouth. The mention of breakfast triggered the hunger that he has been barring away for the remainder of the morning till now to come back. He nearly broke composure and would have _bolted _to the dinner table if his legs were his own.

"Let's hurry back, Lia." Puck prompted, turning a teasing eye to him. "Otherwise, Mr. Bones here will keel over and die of hunger in a matter of minutes."

"Thank you for voicing out what's in my head, _Fay_." He said that term like it was bitter tea. He doesn't appreciate having his predicament exposed like that. Even so, it's the truth of his situation and he really needs to _eat_.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He goes through another long trek on the same long hallway with a light banter in-between, and as soon as he's told that the dining room is just up ahead, he _immediately _bolted, applying a bit of magic to make it look like he vanished instead of running ahead, leaving the dear girl and the fay behind in confused shock for his sudden disappearance, reaching the dining room in a matter of seconds. The long table lined with chairs was there, along with an extravagant chair resting at the head in front of the fireplace that clearly indicated the Master's seat. The décor of the room is just like his borrowed room, engraved with gold and the distinct shapes were present.

What drew his attention the most, however, was the child donning a red royal dress staring at him. A child would have been nothing unusual to him, even if they wore such restrictive clothing, but the _aura _around her little form said otherwise. And she had the most interesting hairstyle he's ever seen in his life.

Even if he could care less about appearances, the diligence put to forming that amount of golden hair into _such _a design deserved credit.

"Putting aside that light-devouring robe of yours, Betty commends your magickry." The little one spoke, stepping close and holding Mother's front right arm nonchalantly, brushing her tiny thumb against the black steel experimentally as the former returned the favor against her little digit. "Not many are capable of extending their will on inanimate objects but yours is capable of its _own_ freewill."

With his left hand, he waved it at the area above her head, grabbing at a tiny clump of mana that leaked out before assessing it mentally. The discovery nearly blew his mind.

"You're an _archmage_?" His voice failed to maintain his astonishment. He was taught that appearances meant nothing in regards to capability, yes, but not a single child has ever caught up to the meaning behind those words until now.

"Oh, you could tell?" She asked, a condescending look clouding her strange orbs. It looked like her pupils had a little butterfly in each of them. "If that's all you can discern, then you should know that Betty is the one who restored your organs, I suppose."

His eyes widened, shocked. "Oh? I thought it was Emilia who healed me…."

"That silly girl merely stabilized you. She's not skilled enough to heal fatal wounds yet." She informed. "Unfortunately, your right hand is beyond even my abilities to save."

Her claim brought back the names of the many powerful healers he met and knew back in Pandemonium. They were all capable of remarkable feats of healing, they could even create an organ from _nothing_. He even had his lung _replaced_ when it was decimated by Gluttony's powerful drug, nearly sending him to his communion with the Dragon prematurely if it weren't for Mother carrying him back to the High Priestess.

It seems this girl's name will be added to the list.

Placing his able hand to his bone-inlaid chest, all 4 of Mother's arms rose up, releasing his dead hand momentarily to clap the pattern of gratitude on either side of him, metal crashing against metal filling the silence before the jingle ended. With one knee set to the ground, he waved his arm outwards grandiosely, sending a small clump of his imbued mana into the air and letting them surge towards Betty's mana core.

His personal show of gratitude as a Priest of the Serpent: clapping the jingle of thanks before sharing his unique mana to the person thanked. Those of the receiving end will be granted good health, vigor, a small stock of their mana becomes potent in their next moment of spell-casting, and they receive a blessing from the Dragon too.

He looked on as Betty's form shook slightly, the sudden dose of energy making her have the sudden desire to start running around the mansion. Amazingly, she managed to hold herself back and instead ask in the same domineering tone, "What have you done?" Only the wisest mages could resist the urge.

He commends her ability to compose herself that easily. "I thanked you, Archmage." He rose up to his feet, Mother's arms going back to their respective places and holding his dead hand behind him. "Use that mana carefully. The strength of a candlelight will instead become a bonfire the next time you use a spell."

"Oh?" She held up a hand in front of her, her fingers positioned as if to snap.

Mother quickly took several steps back.

And he was saved from a full-facial brush of a small fireball erupting from the little archmage's fingertips and towards the ceiling, leaving a blackened spot.

"Oh." She deadpanned, not at all surprised by the unexpected execution of strong magic. "I see. Betty accepts your gratitude, I suppose."

And apparently, she has an odd suffix in her sentences _and _refers to herself by her own name.

Then suddenly, a flamboyant voice drawled from the door.

"_Weeeell_, look at this! Just having the first meetings and your both _aaaaaalready_ getting along!"

Once again, he could not believe his eyes and he wasn't able to keep his stoic mask held up anymore as he faced the person who arrived from the door. "What…in the name of….."

The _dandy _of a man did not seem to notice his shock and instead focused on the little archmage, "And just how _wooonderful_ it is for you to grace our presence in the dinner table, Beatrice! I am _aaaaaaaabsolutely_ delighted that you decided to _diiiiine_ with me!"

He could not believe his ears. This man's voice…this man's inflexion…...it's just so….

"Spare me the assumptions, Roswaal. Betty is waiting for Bubby, that's it." The little archmage, actually called Beatrice, turned her eyes to the door once again and her cold expression suddenly lapsed into a child having presents in the winter festival. "Buuubby!"

Bubby?

Oh, the dear girl has finally made it. The fay waved a little paw from the latter's shoulder in greetings, "Hi, Betty. How were you these last 4 days? Were you staying fresh and ladylike as always?"

"I've been waiting for so long for my Bubby to return, will you be able to stay with me today, I suppose?"

Puck flew to the little archmage's palms, "Sure. It's been while so let's have fun together!"

"Yay!" Squealed the little archmage as she spun in rapid circles away from the door and towards a chair, her skirt flaring magnificently in the motion as she squeezed her precious _Bubby_ to her chest.

Just about the first half since knowing Beatrice, she acted so much like a cold and distant individual, much like one of the elite sorcerers he's pissed off before and now he's watching her act exactly as how her little body entails: like a child.

This world is definitely not for him. He had seen his share of the odd and the strange but not _this _kind.

"Bewildered?" The dear girl asked as she stood beside him, smiling at the spinning little archmage. "Beatrice and Puck are really attached to each other."

"I see that…." He replied, his face slowly waning to become a wry smile. "…admittedly, I'm a little envious of their intimacy." That earned him a giggle from the dear girl.

Then his smile disappeared as he felt the presence of the dandy approaching him. Turning to face the person in question, he found out that they shared the same towering height, especially when this strange person's face is very _close_!

Mother thankfully stepped back, granting him his needed space. "What the….?" He couldn't believe the amount of makeup this dandy has. It was heavily done that he couldn't see the slightest trace of natural skin color and he even had _purple lipstick_. What's more is that he had _mismatched _eyes. One was gold and the other was blue, all had _slits _in each pupil. His clothing is nothing short of extravagant and _exaggerated_. It was as if he picked the most spectacular attire possible in his wardrobe and wore it all at once, he even wore a _tail_ and chained his right ankle. Not a single trace of his skin is present, especially his hands that wore white gloves.

If this man is attempting to appear regal as a clown, then his efforts has certainly _paid off_. It's **effective**.

"_Sooooo_, is this the dark knight in glinting armor that saved our _deeeeeeaaar_ Lady Emilia?" To hear that drawl _this _close was even more spine-tingling. "_Myyyyyy_, so what I've heard is true. You actually have more than a single paaaaaaaiir of arms! I had expected someone younger and haaaandsomer. No offense, good sir."

"Roswaal. Be nice!" Emilia told firmly behind him, "And yes, he's the one. Anyway, shouldn't you be introducing yourself already?"

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten my manners." The dandy assured before extending a hand to him in a dainty flourish, "Pleased to _meeeeet_ you, Ser Emurdol Viandegroc. I am the _Maaaaaaster_ of this Mansion, Roswaal L. Mathers."

Mother quickly grabbed the dandy's unextended left arm and he quickly clasped it with his own left before the metallic hand grabbed the right and shook it.

"_Oooooooh_, a southpaw."

His couldn't believe his discovery once again as he read the energy signatures. The mana potency this dandy has, and the kind of circulation it has as well….

….this world is definitely trying to blow his mind on purpose. Just _what _kind of people live in this mansion anyway?

Looking up to the smiling Lord's face, he barely said it without choking, "You're an _Archmage_?"

It's become painstakingly clear that he and Mother are _not _the only ones of distinct attire and personality in this place. The Dandy, Lord Mathers will be giving them company starting today.


	4. Eponymous Jar of Shit

The glass of water emptied to the bottom, he slammed it with a resounding thud on the table, followed by an extremely relieved exhale before a throaty voice spoke, "Ah….whoever cooked this fine meal, you have earned my compliments. It was the most tasteful feast I've ever indulged in after 2 cycles."

"Your praise honors me, Ser." It seems it was the Dear Maid who cooked the meal, bowing momentarily before collecting the dishes.

"I can _seeee_ that." The Dandy commented, hands folded in front of him as he continued speaking in his happy drawl. "You even choked _two times_!

Okay, both incidents were admittedly embarrassing, but could anyone blame him? He was _hungry_. He tried to hide his slightly reddening cheeks by snickering at his own mishap minutes ago. "It wasn't much trouble. I recovered from both just fine." All it took to unclog his throat was just a long drink of water. Cold, delicious_, filtered _water. River water these days are starting to get old.

"You should slow down while eating, even if you were starving for 8 days." The dear girl advised softly. So kind...

"Ohooo." The dandy's eyes widened at the information, looking at the dear girl in exaggerated shock before turning back to him, "And you were already at a pretty _diiiiismal_ state before you were fatally injured and brought here. I admire your _fooooortitude_, Ser Emurdol."

This man's movements and his words…..it could not be unseen nor unheard. "Thank you." He said tonelessly before setting his gaze down on his empty glass of water as it was refilled by the fair maid. Nodding his thanks, he drank from it again, leaving just half left. There had been tea, but he never touched the cup itself. He _hated _tea. The Order taught him to never be picky because the Above-World could offer so much and it should not be taken for granted but still...

He _hated _tea.

Mother, whose front right arms had been wiping themselves clean with a napkin from the food stains, finally set the stained cloth down and returned to their place, the right resting on the table while the left rested atop his own, following his movements in perfect unison.

His lip curled. She spoke the truth. She still has it in her to function as a proxy with uncanny efficiency. The spoon never so much as shook in her black-steel fingers while she fed it to him. In someone else's, it seemed as if her right arm was his own. He was worried because he was a right-handed man. She truly helped him save face.

The dandy began to speak, "If you do not mind my asking, Ser Emurdol, _whyyyy_ is your right hand crossed over your back while an artificial arm _aaaaaacts_ in its stead?" He gulped.

He is not liking where this question is going to lead towards. This already happened twice before in Pandemonium, what's stopping it from happening the third time?

"If you haven't known…." He kept his face from expressing anything but he did grimace from within. Taking another long pull from a cup of water, Mother released his right hand and he brought it into view for all to see. Nothing but a darkening fist with the bones underneath beginning to show through the dead skin. He heard the dear girl gasp beside him, probably flabbergasted at its current state compared to yesterday, he heard the fay mutter something, and he heard the dandy and the little mage hum.

"_Weeeell_, I can see that it's in such a _sooooooorry_ state." Roswaal commented, the sympathy in his voice showing amidst the odd drawl and inflexion.

"Decaying, useless and _dead_. Yes, it is a sorry state." He agreed in the same dead tone before placing it back behind him, locking it back to Mother's grasp. His hand's state does nothing more than piss him off, especially when he looks at it, "Since I had thought that my time had come yesterday, I had to make sure that my wand does not land into anyone's hands except mine. Apart from its sentimental value, it's a _very _volatile weapon."

He saw a tiny flinch from the person beside him.

He slowly turned his head to the left and gave Emilia a reprimanding stare, "Oh, so you _touched _it, didn't you? I thought I warned you against it before I passed out." The dear girl seemed to shrink under his gaze, his eyes slowly beginning to glow as she turned away from him.

"I….just forgot." The dear girl guiltily confessed. Oh really? "I'm sorry. But at least she pushed me away before it got worse." She added, gesturing to Mother.

He held his stern gaze before sighing and patting her on the shoulder, which made her flinch and yelp from the freezing temperature of his grasp. That was mercy, he could have slapped her for her insolence. "At least you were not torn apart beyond recognition."

"Hmm?" That caught the dandy's attention and a panicked glance from the dear girl. "Why is _thaaaat_?"

In a better mood, he could have explained this with a lot of mirth brimming inside him as he prepares to soak in the terrified and disgusted looks of the others but his current state of mind was everything but bright.

Not like this, especially when it regarded last night, "The consequences of touching it when your mind is weak and your will isn't forged in iron as well as not having any history with the inhabitants of the wand, the Vengeful Spirits will take over your body and mutilate it from the inside, killing you. If you're get lucky, they will keep your body until they find a fitting host to possess. And when they do, they'll cast you aside by breaking you apart." He took another drink from his cup, emptying it. "If I were to die, it must crumble with me, so the Souls can finally be released from their prison and earn their peace in death with me."

Even more fright clouded the dear girl's face, the dandy merely regarded him coolly, "You seem so nonplussed despite having a close _bruuush_ with death."

So no one is going to comment about the Souls trapped in his wand like a prison? It usually happens, strange...

He ignored the dandy's comment, not opting to express his people's belief regarding death, "As for the case of my right hand, I'm currently standing in the fence whether to find the means to heal it back or simply remove it." The latter choice made his face turn into a dark visage. He had the means to _replace _the hand, he had the knowledge and the abilities to even recreate it. He has _everything _he needed to imitate what the Great Healers could do….

"Even for me, it's a hard decision to make." He finished.

But he can't….he just _can't_. After suffering grueling consequences when he had attempted it for the first time, he _damned _the blood type he was born with. It was the _one_ and _only _thing that prevented him from reconstructing his own flesh with that of others. His peers had managed it. His seniors managed it. _Everyone_ managed it…..except him. _Only _him.

"_Aaaaanyway_!" A cheery drawl broke him out of his fiery thoughts, the thought of denying his father from the afterlife gone and he turned to the dandy lord. Oh. He just realized that his necromantic energies had been leaking out of him from his sour mood, filling the area around him with shades of light blue and he didn't even notice it till now. The maids were getting tense too, looking at calculatingly and warily, _especially _the Dear Blue Maid. He quickly drained the energies back to himself just as the dandy began to speak, "Ser Emurdol, I express my sympathy for your situation and I _hoooope_ you make a decision that you don't regret."

"Hm…" He grunted, nodding and trying to tame his expressions. He can tell that his eyes were burning green and the frown on his face was setting in. There had been cases where he wouldn't notice it, especially when his mood isn't bright. It tends to draw a blade coming for his back out of _paranoia_. He's _not_ allowing that, not even Mother.

"A switch of topic: do you know _wheeeeere_ you are?" The dandy asked.

Now that's a nice question, it gave him relief. It made it easy to forget about his hand or his _misfortunate _decisions. He shook his head, white hair swishing in waves, "_No_. I haven't the slightest idea of where this manor is located or what country I am. I had planned to inquire the Spirits later for answers but if you can enlighten me, please do so." He nearly spoken out loud that he did not belong to this _world._ His transparency may have grown over the years but there's only so much he could share, especially to someone of authority he didn't trust.

"_Straaaange_." The dandy tilted his head, wearing an enigmatic smirk, "I thought someone would be prepared to have just the most baaaaasic of knowledge when you enter the Kingdom of Lugunica in the Mathers Household. Instead, you come in blind and you aren't even _awaaaaare_ of the current situation."

"You aren't aware at all, Ser Emurdol?" The dear girl asked, somehow looking worried for some reason.

He shook his head again, "Absolutely not."

The lord's delicate eyebrow rose up, "Oh? I figured you were the type to think things _caaaaarefully_ before taking action. Was I _wrooong_?"

He nearly said 'if I could help it, then yes, I would have'. Out of caution, he held his tongue. He opted to simply play the oblivious foreigner, draw out as much information as he can about this place while searching answers for the questions he's been having. "And judging by your tone, I assume that the situation is anything but peaceful….?"

"That is correct." The dandy answered, "As of now, the Kingdom itself is without a King and has become unstable."

There wasn't any drawl on that sentence. "What of the heirs and heiresses? Isn't that how the process work? What of the King's descendants? Will they not inherit the Seat of Power?" Just because the Underground City doesn't believe in politics, it doesn't mean the Order shouldn't learn about them when they go out to the Above-World. Sometimes, you will have to humor the moronic hierarchy of idiots if you want to perform your operations without anyone hassling you in the process.

"Well, yes. That's _noooormally_ the case. However, half a year ago, an epidemic spread throughout the city. It was an illness that _taaaargeted _people of a specific bloodline."

It wasn't hard to figure out the implications, "And that _plague_ eradicated the King and his entire family tree." He finished, earning him a nod.

If this plague is _not _the work of pettiness from some Above-Worlder, then what is? Someone is clearly trying to shake the kingdom for some twisted outcome if it meant killing the ruler. "Considering what I saw last in the Kingdom, things are fairly stable without a King." He told.

"That is because a council of _wiiiiise _men are administering the kingdom in the king's stead." The dandy pointed out, "They are well-known individuals whose _naaames_ are found in the history books. While they are handling the kingdom without a problem, they are in the process of selecting a new ruler and _sooooooon_. Lugunica's relations with other countries have been neglected, leaving it _iiiiiisolated..._" The lord tensed up, "...and they can't have that. The Kingdom _must _have a king."

This kingdom…..without a king….in the process of selecting a fitting ruler to take the seat of power….and he's brought here at this time of events?

That doesn't sit right with him. Not at all. Mother had the same thoughts as well. She's not liking this in anyway.

"And now, _yooooooou _arrived at the time when the Royal Selection is nigh." The dandy lord is having the same thoughts as well, "I couldn't help but find your presence _veeeeeeery _peculiar. And as you have made contact with Lady Emilia, it is _noooow _the business of the Mathers household."

...he held a guarded expression, his body still and unmoving, not even blinking as he noticed the familiar atmosphere settling. The atmosphere of distrust, and suspicion. He forced himself to remain calm, staying in the passive and allowing things to continue as they are now. A sharper wit is a Priest of the Serpent's greatest weapon than his scythe, said his mentor.

"Now I will not immediately take action so _suuuudenly_, as there's nothing but circumstantial evidence in regards to you." He could not miss the smartly-veiled hostility in the dandy lord's mismatched eyes, despite his joking and playful tone, "But if you act out of hand based from just that, there might be _groooooounds_ to….." He trailed off, finishing the sentence with a neck-cutting motion using his left gloved hand.

Oh...

If it's like that, then he _doesn't_ have anything to worry about. Compared to other scenarios this could have gotten to, this one's the _easiest_.

"Your suspicions are justified and I will not hold it against you." He said, turning away from the dandy lord and staring into space, "But if you _somehow _managed to find credible evidence of me being a danger to this household, I have every right to defend myself if denied a fair trial and instead met with the end of a blade, not that it would be the first time to happen." He sighed inwardly, a cynical light flaring in his eyes, "My people and I are immediately subjected to the sword quite often that we end up killing people in self-defense before we could explain ourselves."

"Oh," He had gathered the attention of nearly everyone present with his words, surprised at the morbid explanation, but the little archmage and the fey are at their own little world at the opposite end of the table, still enjoying each other's company without a care in the world, "And why is that the case?"

He was debating whether that was a stupid question or something else entirely, but he got the prompt to make things _very _clear to these people.

The metallic claws holding his dead hand pushed his chair back before he stood up straight, dwarfing the people seated with his height. Turning to face the dear girl, the dandy lord and the dear maidservants, he said, "Observe." Mother covered his face with all her 4 hands, a pair covering the mouth and the other covering the eyes.

With both his hands closed into fists at the level of his waist, pure swampy green energy brewed from the left hand while the right began to be clouded in a shade of black smoke, hiding his decaying fist in the shrouds. Mother slowly parted her hands from his face, revealing a pair of burning green eyes that looked widely into all within his sight and a parted mouth, revealing long canines and incisors replacing the impossibly white set of teeth that should have been there 10 seconds ago before, creating the image of a terrifying demon. His floating white hair, as if underwater, amplified the haunting visage he created.

From the appendages of Mother spreading to the side like a quad of wings and his bone-inlaid shoulders, the veil separating the worlds between the dead and living is set aside like a curtain, and the opening allowed a mesmerizing aura of green and blue to flare out behind him like a large bonfire. The images of moaning skulls and the shrill whistle in the air that seemed to come from _nowhere _did not allow the display to become a sight to behold but a sight to fear. From behind Roswaal and the maids, the sunlight seemed to have dimmed, as if it was hiding away from his presence, frightened of him, casting the dining room in the haunting twilight.

His robes, absorbing light amidst the display of power and blotting the entire area close to it with its unnatural form of all-encompassing_ black_, it began to reveal a window to the void, presenting the wailing souls of the ones he subjected to the Dragon, suffering the consequences of their actions and wasted lives in the living world.

His spectacle did not only draw the trepidation and alarm it warranted but also defensive aggression. Emilia looked on, unmoving and frozen in fear. Roswaal sat stiffly in his extravagant seat, staring at his display with wide, unblinking eyes of blue and yellow. The maids revealed their true colors, their innocent façades broken to reveal a pair of kittens baring their hidden claws, a flail with a long chain on the little sister's grasps and an aura of lethal wind magic surrounding the elder sister. They each looked at him with a cold gaze, expecting him to make the first move that will herald violence, their cue to act.

Then, at the shock of everyone present in the room, the overbearing darkness of the room disappeared, as quickly as the sharp sound of snapping fingers. Light came back to illuminate the room from the windows and the magical lamps, the haunting atmosphere nothing more than a nightmare they had awaken from and the sounds of the moaning dead silenced as the veil of the afterlife was drawn to a close.

Emurdol stood with his right hand locked in Mother's grasp behind him while his left hand simply hung, an armored left hand hovering over it, as if he had not just presented himself as an abomination and ripped open the fabric of reality.

"_This _is why it's the case." Though his voice was as emotionless and low as always, it was powerful enough to break the silence and jolt Emilia and the maids in their place for the sudden arrival of _sound_, eliciting only an eye-blink the Lord of the Mansion as he continued, "We _look_ like monsters, my people have been _demonized_ into monsters, and therefore the Church have declared it _law_ to put us down like the hellspawn we've been hunting down without question. If it weren't for the more open-minded individuals that were outside the Church's influence that _had _the sense to question my presence instead of outright killing me, I would have declared everyone my _enemy_ despite the teachings of the Order that all humans Above-Ground are merely misguided and should not be executed in petty revenge."

Turning to face the table, Mother pulled his chair close as he sat down with a slumping sigh, relaxing himself against the seat, reducing himself from a potential threat into a man recovering from a split abdomen and a mana burn. "I have suffered and bled and lost to make sure my people will _never _suffer that prejudice ever again, and I will not waste my efforts by having a useless farce with all of you." He said in full finality, staring into space once again.

Emilia's sympathetic gaze is too blatantly obvious, even if he's not looking directly at her. The sensation of that look is all too familiar these days.

Roswaal stared at him for several seconds. With a cool wave of his hand, the maids lowered their weapons and stood back at attention on either side of him, their façade returning. "You and Lady Emilia will get along _veeeeeeery _well, Ser Emurdol." His drawl strangely had a grim tone to it.

Facing the dandy once again, he found a _smile_, "Why?"

The dandy lord held up his hands, "Sorry but it's not within my position to say. You will have to ask her for the certain details, if she is willing to share it with you."

…he's seeing the implications.

He turned to face the dear girl and he saw a down look in her face, giving him a short glance before looking away.

It seems there are more to this girl than he thinks. The closest conclusion he can be confident in is that she might be sharing what he and his people suffered. Could there be prejudice in being a half-breed? Wood elves had that kind of bigotry unlike the river elves. Whatever kind of half-elf this dear girl is, it's not clear which one. She's too…._common_, like a **human** child abruptly sent into the world, barely able to go through a proper childhood that Above-World little ones usually experience.

Then again, these are just theories. Even if he's confident in them, the better source is from the person in question. Maybe later, he'll ask.

Sighing loudly, diffusing the still-stiff situation as he began with a personable tone, "If I may ask." He looked at the little mage at the other end of the table, he looked at the dear girl, then looked back at the dandy before asking, "Who among you stands at the top of the hierarchy of this building? Hearing the Master of the Manor address Emilia as 'Lady' is quite unusual."

"Well, for the _oooobvious_ reason." The dandy lord caught his drift and followed along, his voice now laced with its usual strange cheer. "It is within my _ooooobligations_ to refer to someone of a higher position than me with all due respect."

He frowned in question, his brow furrowing further as he saw the dear girl shift uneasily. "Dear Girl, what is your position here?" He interrogated, boring holes to the back of her head. By standard, the Mansion's master is the one that stands above all, and to hear that _Emilia _stands above _him _is far more questionable than it looks.

The dear girl turned to him, her voice soft and unlike a boast, as if she doesn't know how to exert her answer properly, "I am currently the candidate for the 42nd Ruler for the Kingdom of Lugunica. And Margrave Roswaal is my benefactor."

….

…..…..

…..…..…..

"Forgive me if it's such a surprise to you but I haven't really intended to keep it a secret."

…..the Kingdom's ruler and his bloodline dead; the Royal Selection; Emilia's position as a _candidate; _and _his _presence here….._if this is some sort of conspiracy, he'd be damned if he's __right_.

His face may have been frozen in its shocked visage, but it belied the cunning flow of thoughts and possibilities that ran through his hand like a volley of arrows, each one piling together in the form of hypothesis that concludes to more than one outcome. There was nothing but opportunity ahead of him, he was _sure _of it. He was tempted to smile, his lip even trembled in his efforts to force it back. And he won the battle, allowing him to rise up from his chair, Mother clapping the jingle of reverence and bowed before the dear girl.

"For whatever I have said and done that might have offended you, I humbly ask for your forgiveness." As he bowed grandiosely, his arms crossed behind him while Mother had all her arms spread in a greeting fashion on either side of him, he smiled wickedly at the future that's coming for him. "_Your Ladyship_." He finished with a chuckle, exposing the notion that he said all that as a joke.

"Oh please. You don't have to act that way." It seemed the dear gi—no, her ladyship caught on to his tune, laughing at his display of exaggerated reverence, failing to catch the sarcasm. "But why did your other hands clap a strange rhythm?"

He chuckled some more before straightening himself, Mother holding his dead hand once again as he retook his seat, ignoring her stated question. "But still, I am honestly surprised that you are an _heiress_."

"You don't seem so taken aback by it, though…."

He curled his lip distastefully. This girl _really _doesn't remember much, does she? "Have you forgotten what I said, Dear Girl?" He asked, raising a pale eyebrow, "No matter what status you carry, whether poor on the streets or rich in this mansion, I'm treating you like the mortal you are to me, just like everybody else."

She pouted, then slowly began to smile faintly before taking out a familiar item and placed it on the table. "Remember this?"

It was the insignia, the same item that lead to everything wrong happening in that loot house and ending with him here. "It seems you recovered it."

"Yes." She nodded. "That girl, Felt gave it back to me in exchange for saving her Grandfather."

"It carries the symbol of the Kingdom of Lugunica, with the _exaaaaaaggerated_ name: Kingdom of the Elder Dragon Lugunica. Fortress walls and weapons tend to bear this symbol in many places." Roswaal explained, "Even in this _veeeery _instance, the symbol is extraordinarily important." He turned to Emilia, sending what looked like a prompt through eye-contact before her ladyship flinching.

With a gulp, she supplied in a very strained voice, "It's a qualification for one to ascend to the throne. It is a point of reference if one is worthy of the Seat of Power."

….._**what**__?_

"Are you saying you _lost _something as important as _this_!?" He asked hoarsely, his gravely tone slipping out amidst his exasperation. "You're an _heiress_, aren't you!? How _could_ you let this happen!? If you had actually lost this, your candidacy for the throne will be _void_!"

"It's scandalous to say I lost it! It was stolen from me!"

"That doesn't matter, you _Stupid Girl_!" He firmly pointed out, his dead hand struggling against Mother's grasp as his left hand gestured wildly in his words, "If I had known that it was _that _important, I would not have been wasting my time manipulating both you and Felt yesterday into fighting each other and instead helped you!"

"A king is someone who _beeeeears_ the burden of a country." The dandy lord pointed out, amused at the happenings. "It would be nothing but preposterous if a candidate who will soon bear that burden is _iiiiiiincapable_ of holding onto a tiny insignia. If you had lost it, then why would _weeeeee_ entrust the future of the kingdom to _yooooou_?"

He blinked, taking in the dandy lord's words carefully before slumping back to his seat, kneading his forehead. All this is too much to take in. "Above-Worlders and your damn politics…" The problems idiots face with their narrow-minded systems, no wonder his City survived longer than anyone Above-World could ever hope to boast about, "….it should have been known to you that someone _would_ have your right to the candidacy be denied, yes?"

Her ladyship looked down, "…yes."

He frowned deeply, "Knowing all this, it brings me the realization that the magnitude of my actions carry greater value than I initially thought. You, a candidate to the throne, could have _died _yesterday." He sent her the implication of his words through eye contact.

She caught it well, placing a hand to her chest as she spoke, "Yes. To me, you are someone I am greatly indebted to. You have saved my life, I would not be able to repay you properly for that." She turned to him, looking at him deeply in the eyes, "That's why, you can ask me for anything. And as long as it's within my ability, I will do so. Or rather, I will ensure that it is done, anything it will be of equal value to what you have done for me."

…..this girl is firm in her position, indebted to him wholeheartedly and she's _willing_ to do so, without question, even when _he's_ the one being rewarded. More than most would _fear _owing him, but this girl is among the opposites. She's genuinely inclined to reward him.

And that makes him _very _happy.

Hmph, "Remember the saying?"

She smiled playfully, "Tongue-tied? Picky?"

"Yes." He answered, shaking his head in amusement. He patted her shoulder, not eliciting a flinch from her this time. Seems she got used to it, "Give me time to think about it."

She nodded, "Of course. Just tell me when you decided upon it and I'll do my best to grant it." He traced a finger across her silky white hair in appreciation.

"Myyyyyy, we seem to be interfering in the moment. Should we leave you two in private?" The dandy teased, smiling cheekily at the two.

"Instead of doing that," He set aside his amused mood, "Answer my question: at what position do you carry to be able to back the Dear Girl's candidacy?"

"Well, if you _muuuust_ know, not that I had any intention to conceal it." The dandy held his chin thoughtfully, "I guess you can say that I am the _loooord_ of the outer regions. But the better description of my role in this kingdom is as…..the Court Magician, perhaps?"

His eyes immediately widened, suddenly finding his answers for the questions he had earlier upon meeting this _clown_ of an _archmage_, "So that explains the potency of your mana…the Kingdom's personal magician, huh…."

"That's right, he's also the greatest magician of the entire kingdom." The dear girl added, "There is no one who could rival him."

He nodded in understanding. If there's anything he learned from Above-World sorcerers, they are quite _eccentric _by the standards of common folk and warriors. This archmage **clearly** fits the list. The little archmage _might _have found her way to it as well but he's still uncertain in its validation.

"As I were saying:" The lord brought back the earlier conversation, "I support Lady Emilia's candidacy for the throne, as her patron and benefactor. It will be _gooooood_ for her image."

He turned to the future queen: a naïve little half-elf girl with rare white hair. Then he turned back to the lord: a _clown_ with the most grating inflexion he ever heard in his life.

He chuckled.

"_Whaaat's_ so funny?" The latter asked.

He waved the question off, deeming his thoughts as too irrelevant to be said out loud. A strange man supporting a childish girl, it's a supreme contradiction. It was quite amusing to imagine. Then his amusement was suddenly gone, a firm grimace covering his visage as he eyed Roswaal critically.

This has been the question that's been bugging him lately, "But I have a question: why is Emilia, a _candidate _to the throne, walking around in public all on her own yesterday? I find that too risky."

"Oh, it woooould not be the first incident. However, I thought Ram was to be with her."

The Fair Maid in question, Ram, was wearing the exact same hairstyle as her little sister, _literally _making them look exactly alike in an attempt to hide from blame. It would have been convincing, had her hair color and eyes been blue.

He stared flatly at the servant, wondering how the hell did her resourcefulness took her anywhere in this life.

"I-it's not Ram's fault…" Her ladyship nervously defended, "My curiosity got the better of me when I was with her yesterday….."

He stared at her, eyes narrowed.

"….and I ended up separating from her in the process…."

Oh for the love of...!

He slammed his fist on the table and the stupid girl jumped as well as the plates, cups and utensils, yelping in surprise at his sudden movements. He groaned mournfully, kneading his forehead with his pale hand, now red from the impact. "You _stupid _little girl….why did I even help you?" He shouldn't have helped her. He should've just left things as it is and allowed the stupid girl to suffer for her stupidity. He was so wrong, this girl's one of the _idiots _of this level of the earth.

He ignored her sulking, instead staring at the dandy's mismatched eyes, "Incompetence, Lord Mathers….this puts into question your trustworthiness as her patron. Your employee's incompetence would have sullied your very name as a _noble_."

He did not miss the slight twitch in the Fair Maid's eyes. The Dear Maid isn't hiding that glare either. Quite audacious servants the dandy lord have employed in his home.

He would not be so quick as to point the blame to the Master, as it is very narrow-minded to hold the actual cause of the matter responsible instead of the element but as he is now stands Above-Ground, he might as well adapt to their mindset and their customs. Plus, his wits in matters like this have worked with him well for so long.

"….you _dooo_ have a point." The dandy agreed with a low tone, "Ram's failure in supervising Lady Emilia is to some extent my failure as well. _Buuuut_….what are you trying to imply, Ser Emurdol?"

"Simply put, Lord Mathers: _I saved your ass._" His blunt answer drew the shock of the stupid girl and the hostile looks from the maidservants, even more from the fair maid. "_Unwittingly_ at that. The Fair Maid's incompetence is showing by her lack of presence when Emilia was mugged, and later attacked. That could be passed off as uncontrollable circumstances but that's not the point. A maid's mistake falls to the Master, and that mistake led to the loss of the insignia. And if I haven't been there, Emilia's life would have been lost as well. Due to my actions, no word of _your_ error will ever reach the public, the responsibility of losing the life of your _charge _will not befall you, and this Stupid Girl remained a candidate to the throne." His eyes flashed green, "You owe me more than Emilia could."

The lord only chuckled lowly, looking at him with a cool look, "I can see the logic in your words, as Lady Emilia's life exceeds my own personal fortune and it would be more than appropriate for me to pay whatever is needed to cover up my mistakes." His lips tugged slightly, "_Nooooow_, what is it you desire….?"

He suddenly stood up from his chair, staring down the dandy for the audacity he had of _bribing _a Priest of the Serpent. "Do not assume such petty actions to be able to silence me." He pointed out coldly. "The Order of the Serpent don't care for material things, and even if I were to tell you of my desires, you would not be able to give it to me."

Emilia looked worriedly between the two men, a battle of willpower ensuing through their hardened stares. "Then what _iiiiiis_ it you desire? As you might know, I cannot allow my errors to reach the public. And I will do what I must, if my conscience prevents me from resorting to the simple solution, which is _silencing_ you. _Nooooow_, tell me what is it you desire?"

He noticed the euphemism to indicate a death sentence, and he felt the antagonism in his heart spark for the slightest moment before it disappeared under his iron will. Emurdol then sighed, slumping back to his seat, "But still….I wouldn't know what I would have from you as a reward…."

Emilia released a big sigh of relief, glad that the situation didn't end in a violent confrontation, "Did you get indecisive again?" She asked.

Hmph, "Embarrassingly." He admitted, which drew a nervous giggle from her and a slight smile from the dandy. He turned to the latter, a passive light in his eyes as he spoke with a polite tone, "Will you allow me 5 days in order for me to think over a fitting reward? And additionally," He gently took Emilia's hand and raised it up for all to see. "She can help me by providing choices."

"Re-really?" She asked, surprised for her sudden involvement, "You want _my_ help?"

He nodded, serious as he turned back to the lord, "Also, I seek knowledge. As much this place is Kingdom is as anomalous as it is foreign to me, my existence is equally as anomalous to all of you." Compromise. That has been the only way things between him and other influential people could deal with things peacefully without someone getting their insides ripped out the next morning, "Within my given 5 days, I will learn as much as I can about this Kingdom and come upon a fitting reward to benefit me in the long term. I cannot imagine its guaranteed success, but I intend to think ahead. And as I do so under your close-watch all throughout, you can verify my sudden presence's trustworthiness within the bounds of your manor and no longer having to go through intensive measures to do so when I'm far away from it."

Roswaal leaned back against extravagant throne, the fair maid and the dear maid on either side of him as always, staring cautiously and calculatingly at him, humming at the given request before giving a nod, "I see no _prooooblem_ with that, and as you contemplate your choices with Lady Emilia, you are _weeeeelcome_ to take lodgings in this Manor during your requested five days. You may treat this house as if it were your own and my _cuuuuuute_ servants will be at your disposal as well." He interlocked his gloved hands below his chin, "But when you finally come to a conclusion, come _seeeeee_ me and I'll grant you your wish, Ser Emurdol."

He nodded his genuine thanks. He'll make sure to change his attitude the next time he and Lord Mathers talk to each other. "I am sincerely grateful, Lord Mathers. In exchange, I'll give you something to be alert of while I'm here: sudden loud noises, some shifts in the air's mana, strange smells and my presence around the premises during the dark evenings. Some of my habits are your taboos, after all."

"Taboos?" The dear girl parroted in question, unsettled, "L-like what?"

He turned a cryptic smile to her, already liking the future events this knowledge will lead to, "You'll see. Telling you would be tiring."

"Just one, please?" She begged, her hands together in front of her.

Strangely, he was compelled to comply. "Well, I am awake and asleep at hours where it would be unorthodox to you people. Some other times, I would be walking around, touching the soil, speaking with the Spirits or simply experimenting. At times when I am not doing any of those, I would be asleep."

"So…" Emilia tried to comprehend the meaning in his words.

"Yes, go on." He encouraged.

"You stay awake at night and sleep during the day?"

Mother's four metallic arms clapped in applause for the answer.

She wore a hopeful look, "Was I correct!?"

"Not completely." Even if it was _technically _correct. He told Mother to go back to being idle and holding his dead hand before saying, "At times, yes, I will retire during the day. But actually, I have the choice whether to _sleep _or not, no matter the time of day."

"What!? No, you _have _to sleep once a day. It's bad for your health otherwise!"

He cleared his throat loudly, "Do be reminded that I lived _Underground _for more than half of my life. We have no way of knowing whether the sun or the moon is up. Whatever cycle you Above-Worlders follow does not apply to me."

"Then what cycle _dooo_ you follow?" Lord Mathers asked.

"My people and I _don't _have a sleeping cycle, Lord Mathers. We sleep whenever we like." He answered simply, tugging a small strand of his white locks with his left hand while Mother's front left did the same. "Though we are human just like all of you, our bodies are forged differently. We can last for as long 3 days compared to your 16 hours without losing our cognitive functions, but only at that. If we try to exceed that amount of time, we will get irritable, lose our ability to think rationally and degrade our mana. At the point of mana burn, we will lose our consciousness and likely never wake up."

"But you _will _sleep when the time comes, yes?"

This girl's worries really put him off. It was quite _unfamiliar_. His made sure to keep his voice from giving it away, "I will. Don't you worry, Your Ladyship." He assured in a soft tone, though with an undertone of mockery. Something Emilia didn't notice, again. "Even at the time of battle, I look after my body very carefully. I am a _frail_ man, after all."

"Frail? I doubt that." Emilia told, "Yesterday, when you fought that horrible woman, you fought unlike anything I have seen before, as if Death itself stood by your side and you suffer punishment without even flinching. You're far from frail. You're _fearsome._"

He chuckled, feeling more than proud for the description he earned from the dear girl. "That may be so, but…." He tapped the ribcage enclosing his chest, reminding the girl that he actually had bizarre ornaments worn on his body. "…I do not wear this just for intimidation purposes and protection. There is more to the reason why I am commonly treated like an Old Man besides appearing like so, despite my annoyance to such."

He's not like the regular Priest of the Serpent. They usually don't suffer a poison in their body that's continually shortening his lifespan little by little.

"Well, that's _soooomething_ to acknowledge but do not worry, Ser Emurdol." Lord Mathers told in assurance, "I can see the youth in your eyes very clearly. You're likely not _paaaaaast_ your 20th turn, aren't you?"

"I'm at my 21st actually," He corrected, "I am still youthful as such."

"Oh, Ser Emurdol." The dear girl called.

"Hm?"

"Ram and Rem would like to introduce themselves." She gestured to the dear maidservants approaching him. As they reached his distance, they dipped in a curtsy in perfect unison.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ser." The Dear Maid started, "I am Rem, the chief maid of this household. Do be kind to me."

"Nice to meet you, Ser." The Fair Maid followed after, "I am Ram, the maid in Lord Roswaal's manor. Don't be hard on me."

He was amused once again, finding their differing choice of words despite their identical marks really entertaining, but he didn't fail to acknowledge them. Standing up from his seat, with Mother clapping once using her front arms to convey her silent greetings, he inclined his head to them, "Well met. Though you are at my disposal, do continue working as if I'm not here. I can clean after myself."

"Rem understands. But if you ever need anything, simply call for Dear Sister and she will be there to attend to you."

"Ram understands. But if you plan to revoke your previous statement, just call for Rem and she will clean after your mess."

He chuckled. Oh he _loves_ the Fair Maid. His time here will be short but he's very sure that it'll be fun together with her around.

"_Aaaah_, a person who's _niiiice_ to the waitress." Roswaal said dreamily, looking out into space, "They could not have asked for a better guest, can they?"

"I hope you become good friends, Ser Emurdol!" The dear girl cheered.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Must you follow me?" He questioned, addressing the Fair Maid following after him without turning around as he walked to the room where his belongings are located. When he looked over his shoulder, he was surprised that the Dear Maid is following as well. "Must you two follow me? You did say that you'll attend to me once I call for either of you."

"We just wanted to make sure you know where you're going." The Dear Maid started.

"You might just end up wandering into Lord Roswaal's private study and Ram might have to throw you out before that happens." The Fair Maid finished.

He smiled. If this isn't a roundabout way of watching his movements, he'll be really surprised, "I am just going back to my borrowed quarters. But before that, I will have to retrieve my bag."

"Then Rem will get them for you."

"Ram will follow you, just to make sure you picked the right room."

Too many giveaways...too many. They are definitely monitoring his movements.

He stopped walking, turning a curious eye to the Dear Maid, regarding her little arms and legs. If she could carry his pack, then he would be genuinely surprised. "If you can carry a heavy bag of bone dust that's as heavy as a sack of rice _without _spilling its contents, be my guest."

"Okay, Rem will do her best." To his shock, the Dear Maid nodded to his consent and set off in a brisk pace past him.

"Hm…." He frowned as he watched the girl head off, then he lightly shook his head before headed onwards to his room, with the Fair Maid following behind him.

After going through the _unnecessarily _long hallway, with no conversation exchanged between him and the Fair Maid, he saw his room's door coming close. With Mother's front right hand, she opened the door for him—

—and he was graced with the sight of a little one cuddling lovingly with a tiny kitten on a bed inside a library.

"Aaah~ Bubby, you're so wonderful! Your fur is just fantastic—"

Her affection-drunk squeals were silenced as she noticed the disturbing person standing outside the open door, specifically him. She was as still as a statue, the object of her affections waving awkwardly in her little hands.

He wore a shit-eating grin, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes, now would you leave!?" The dignified little archmage was apparently too embarrassed to be seen in such a state. With a palm thrown to his direction, an invisible force threw him away from the door as it slammed shut and he flew straight towards the wall.

He would have smashed his head against it, but Mother's 4 arms and legs instantly took independent action and smoothly used the momentum sending him flying to glide him upwards to the ceiling, appendages skittering on the surface of the wall until he flipped in the air and landed with a thump back to the floors. His own arms were crossed over his chest the entire time, not obstructing her in any way.

Smoothing his silver hair back while Mother took his dead right hand back behind him, he wore an amused smile as he righted his posture, "My, what a rambunctious little archmage."

"That was the Door Crossing." The Fair Maid informed, not too dumbfounded by the scene that just happened in front of her. "It is used to hide her domain upon any door found within the mansion. Once Lady Beatrice resets the location to another door, it will be impossible to find her unless you try each one."

And he thought he broke his streak of never failing to retrace his steps, thank the Dragon that wasn't the case. Additionally, it shouldn't be possible to renovate a guest room into a library _that _quickly unless they used magic. It seems his suspicions were correct, as halfhearted as he thought of it at first, "So the original guest room I used will be there once I open it, hm?" He wondered, thinking over the practical uses of that 'Door Crossing' spell.

Then he remembered what he did, prior to breakfast.

…..His shit-eating grin grew even wider.

With a purpose, he opened the same door with his able left hand, greeted with the sight of the same library with the same little archmage with the same cat once again. The silver-haired girl's presence was unusual, however. The latter likely found the secret library with her own room door. Still, he played along, "Hello."

His overly-polite greetings jolted the dear girl several inches up to the air along with a cute little yelp before she turned around and noticed him behind her, "Ser Emurdol!?"

"How did you _two_ know the right door?" The little archmage asked heatedly, crushing Puck to her chest.

"Is there a little merrymaking going on in this room? Why was I not informed?" He inquired jokingly as he entered, loving just how flustered her little face was.

"There is no merrymaking and nobody is allowed to enter the Forbidden Archive so casually!" Goodness, the kind of volume she's using in a _library _of all places. "Now you two get out!"

He snickered cruelly before gliding back to the door and closing it, back to the hallway with the Fair Maid beside him. Waiting two seconds, he opened the door again with a grandiose shout, "I HAVE RETURNED!" It was enough to echo throughout the mansion, and likely break the eardrums of nearby people.

And as he predicted, the dear girl was about to exit the library herself before he entered and she looked like she got blasted by a fireball spell from his dramatic entrance as she fell on her backside, the shocked look on her face multiplying from his sudden arrival and shouting. "S-Ser Emurdol! Don't just barge in shouting like that! You surprised me!"

"How!?" And he milked the sight: Beatrice was _outraged _as she knelt on her bed, "Just how are you solving the Door Crossing Riddle so _easily_!?"

He closed the door again instead of answering.

Running to the next guest room door, he twisted the knob and flatly stared at the shocked look on Beatrice's face, speaking in a monotone voice, "I thought this room was found in…" He pointed to the left, the location of the same door he used twice to enter the library, "….that door, next to this."

"What!?" She was surprised once again, "The spell should have situated the Forbidden Archives to the right wing of the mansion! Ho-how…."

"Did you forget?" He asked, then paused to hold out a hand to the dear girl who's _still_ on the floor. After lifting her up to her feet, he returned to the little archmage, "I shared with you my mana, and I told you to use your spells carefully next time." He pointed at the ground, "_This _is not being 'careful', mind you."

"U-um," The dear girl tried to get in the conversation, "What is going on between you two?"

"Her Door Crossing spell is affecting _every _door in this manor." He answered, nearly breaking out laughing at the possible scenarios this could've led to if he hadn't told her of it before his borrowed mana runs out.

"That's actually kinda fancy. Your mana's really that potent, Emurdol?" Puck asked from the little archmage's embrace.

"All of my people do, actually." He corrected simply, "We just refrain from using our unique mana on _basic_ and _mundane_ spells, especially _this._ It's too _wasteful."_ He turned to Beatrice, more than pleased to see the _extremely _vexed look on her face for having her dimension-warping spell be regarded as _low-grade_. "If you like, I can drain it away from you."

"Just do it!" She shouted, already reaching her breaking point, "Do it so Betty will not have to pause her moment with Bubby by executing a spell just to squeeze it out and stop all these rude interruptions!"

Typical archmage.

"Then allow me." Looking deeply into Beatrice's unique pupils containing butterflies, he held out a hand to her and pulled with his hand at the air. He repeated the gesture, pawing at something that wasn't seen, but it was surely felt.

"Mana drain…" The dear girl said in awe beside him, quick to figure out what he was doing with the strange feeling in the air, "So you know how to do it?"

"It's a spell the Order of the Serpent _must _learn before they leave the Underground City." He informed, not breaking the mana drain as the energy was slowly becoming visible in the form of a pale-blue trail in the air, exiting from the little archmage's form, through the space between them both and into his pale clawing hand, "Mana elixers aren't that easy to find."

"Your Order must have high standards." Beatrice commented, "Only Betty and Bubby are capable of doing so, not even Roswaal knows how to execute it."

"More like you Above-Worlders are just not opportunistic." With a flick of his wrist as soon the pale blue trail that was slowly gaining a new color of red, indicating that it was Beatrice's mana now getting siphoned, the draining spell was cut off.

Leveling his left hand to his chest, he let a ball of his unique energy brew from his fingers and atop his palm, slightly draining a bit of mana from the atmosphere, as well as the other people present. "Learn this and you will be safe than sorry." With a fist, the spell was gone. He bowed, "Glad to be of service, _Archmage Beatrice_." The undertone of mockery was still there. Judging by the sour look on her face, she noticed.

Turning around, he pulled the dear girl along by her arm, "Come on, let's give the two their privacy."

"O-okay."

As they went past the doorway, the portal instantly slammed shut behind the dear girl's back, surprising her once again. By the Dragon, she's jumpy.

Going back to the door, he twisted the knob, braced for impact, and found an empty, unused guest room.

"Progress." He commented before closing the door and inclining his head to Emilia, "Your Ladyship." Still mocking, _still_ unnoticed. Then he turned around and headed back to his borrowed quarters.

"Ser Emurdol." She reflexively replied, bowing in turn, then realizing what term he used on her, "You could just call me Emilia, you know!"

"I'm _terribly_ sorry, I cannot hear you!" He yelled out, Mother covering his ears with her metallic hands as he entered his room and closed the door behind him.

"Now," He began, his voice as silent as the air as he looked over the room, considering the placement, the available space and comparing it to the arrangement he had in mind. This might take a while, but then again, he isn't staying long anyway. He'll work with simple, like he always did.

Deciding to start in a step by step manner, Mother rubbed her front hands before his chest in preparation for the task at hand before he verbalized the start, "Let's do some manual labor."

Moving the nightstands to the back wall first, he then moved the large bed that could fit 7 people together towards the corner, using Mother's entire frame to lift the heavy thing. With the bones of stone trolls and their endurance amplified by his magic, it took little time. One chair close to the bed and the other towards the back wall together with the 2 nightstands, he put the two furniture together to form a large table.

"Inadequate…" He decided, a small frown crossing his features. Then he shook his head, "…then again, I am not staying long anyway."

"Have you finished customizing this room to your liking?" The Fair Maid asked behind him.

"I was wondering when will you begin speaking." She's been silent throughout his work, and if she helped, she only pulled the carpet underneath the bed out before he moved it. "But yes, I'm finished."

"Rem brought you your belongings, Ser." A soft voice informed from the door, gathering his attention to the Dear Maid as she held the dark bag in her arms, _not at all_ weighed down by the dust and organs inside it. Not even the plate armor and gauntlets atop it seemed to bother her, "Your weapons as well." She nodded to the holster containing his two krises looped around her arm.

"Good work." Mother's ribcage opened up and his body slumped forward to the table, supporting himself with his only left hand. Even if his arms weren't the ones lifting objects, his body is still used as leverage. It was the norm for his creations to be doing all the work for him and Mother, but he lacked the inclination to create minions. "Bring it here."

She brought it over and Mother secured him with her bones again before she took it off Rem's hands and laid it atop of the improvised table, his armor and holstered weapons placed beside it. Opening the top, the clusters of bone dust and fragments are revealed, though only half remained, used up from yesterday's battle. Closing the flap, he opened the many pockets to see if any of the containers were broken. None were. Good.

He pulled them out one by one and set them on the table. One potion contained swirling green liquid. A square-shaped container of the same size contained bubbling red liquid. A round vial of yellow-orange liquid, its contents looking like it was on fire. The last one, a large vial of purple liquid, was held in his left hand, a metallic hand twisting the stopper before he took a whiff of it.

"Aaaaah…" Always so refreshing, the scent of the all-powerful rejuvenation elixir. He set it down next to the others.

"What are those vials?" The Dear Maid asked.

"What is that purple liquid?" The Fair Maid asked.

"Nothing special. Merely duplicates of volatile liquids in my region. They either serve as weapons or for experimental purposes." He tapped the rejuvenation elixir with his fingernail, "This one is an original mixture, however. I am still trying replicate it. And it has been 2 years already." Whoever knew the recipe, he wished he could find them. It was bad enough that he could only find _one _full rejuvenation elixir when he managed to break into the vault of a mage he killed. The bastard knew the recipe and he blew his body to pieces before he could find out. "Trial and error hasn't been effective, but I _did _manage to replicate a full healing elixir. Only a matter of time before I succeed."

"Healing elixir?" The Dear Maid repeated in question.

"Does it heal wounds the same way healing magic does?" The Fair Maid asked.

There's no use of alchemy to replicate the magical utility in this world?

"It can heal fatal wounds, yes." He nodded, searching through the other pockets to pull out the other containers that were not liquid-based, and are bound to draw _very_ negative reactions. "It can put severed limbs back together as well. But there's no saving decapitation or a heart that stopped beating. Cross those borders and your beyond the point of saving."

A vial containing the claw and tooth of a storm viper. A small jar containing the half of a brain of a magi-turned-demon. A man's _head _inside a bottle, preserved perfectly as his empty eyes stared at the maidservants.

"What is that?"  
"What is that?"

There goes the expected question containing surprise and shock.

"This man…." He held the neck of the bottle, sloshing the preserving liquid inside and making the head roll uncontrollably from within before he set it down and pulled out the other jars from the bag. "….was a mass-murderer who slaughtered entire villages and raised them as zombies. He's been the leading cause of many plagues and destroyed villages for a long time. I was sent to kill him and I kept his pathetic head as a trophy."

"How horrible."

"How cruel."

"Whether those words are for him or for me, it doesn't matter." He told them, finally pulling out the last one, a square jar containing 5 eyeballs and set it on the table. "It's a compliment, anyway. But this man was _evil_, his actions are far more cruel and horrible than my standards would allow."

And no one could _simply _be labeled evil, especially when Pandemonium originally _housed _people guilty of evil before.

Concentrating lightly, he raised his left hand, level to his head with the palm facing upwards. It may look like a nonsensical gesture but in reality, he was slipping his hand into the unknown realm and, in a display similar to a sleight of hand trick, his dark curving sickle suddenly appeared in his left hand as if it was already there.

"Oh." The Dear Maid wore a surprise look, though a lot more subdued than it should for someone seeing it for the first time. "You can do it as well?"

"Yes, indeed." He remembered the flail she drew out when he exerted power at the dinner table just to make them know what he is. There was no way she could hide that weapon in her person unless she could do the same thing he can. "And I learned merely by observing. I've met _too_ many magi." And he pissed them all off, with only a few of them being able to suffer his presence for so long without incinerating him with their worst spells.

And those sorcerers _really_ thought they could hide their magic from him, always pulling out whatever object they had in mind out of nowhere, even though it would have been _impossible _for an 8 foot tall staff to be hidden inside one's robes.

To a Priest of the Serpent, opening the veil to the Spirit Realm is quite trivial. Maintaining a certain _size _of that opening is actually cumbersome, comparable to holding back a riotous crowd from entering a door all by yourself and only allowing them to come one at a time instead of all at once. It requires supreme force of will and a _lot _of mana, both of which he got covered in his own way. The truly impossible task was trying _not _to break into the Spirit Realm but the Realm _in-between _the Physical Realm and the Spirit Realm. The Void, he dubbed it. The same place magi have been using as their bottomless storage container. It required surgical precision and control, something he had developed over a year to meet its demands.

He is still inexperienced in the practice, being able to maintain a tiny opening but it was large enough to let his sickles and his preserving jars pass through. The less you have in your person, the better your mobility in case a battle comes down upon you unexpectedly.

"It's useful in case I wish to hide my currency in a place no one could easily pilfer or find." He reached behind the Dear Maid and pulled out the second sickle from 'her' back. "And other things as well, including spare clothes." Placing the sickle on the table along with the other, he reached behind the Fair Maid and pulled out a medium-sized jar that contained a shriveled heart floating in green liquid.

"How many more pieces of people have you kept, Ser?" She asked, crossing her arms as she regarded the withered organ distastefully.

"Not just humans, Fair Maid." He watched her reactions and found even more distaste instead of shock. Disappointing. He wanted to see more fright. "Some other beings simply have the bad luck of earning my interest or my ire. But believe me: when I kill something or someone…" He shook the jar, gauging the movements of the green liquid. "…they _asked _for it, especially those who try to kill me without a good reason." He regarded the contents calculatingly, eyeing every detail very carefully, including the state of the jar.

Remembering his notes, he found the resemblance perfectly matched, making him nod in affirmably. "Hm. It seems the siphoning is complete. The fluids already lost its viscosity and the heart stopped beating. This is it. If you'll excuse me….." He clutched the jar tightly to his chest and Mother's front arms grabbed around the lid, trying to twist it off.

Only to twist the jar along instead. Grumbling, he adjusted his grip around the container and Mother grasped the lid, tightly securing her metallic fingers around the edges before twisting forcefully. Only to fail as the container was twisted once again. He growled frustratingly. The lid was actually screwed tightly enough that the metallic arms, strong enough to crush bones itself, weren't able to get even a single inch of a twist, Even when all four arms amassed together to assist, it yielded no good result.

"Ser, if I may…." Mother stopped twisting the lid, he stared incredulously at the Dear Maid, who offered to open it for him.

Before he was about to question how such little arms would be able to open something even Mother can't, the latter already moved against his wishes and offered the jar to Rem.

"Mother…!" He hissed in a reprimanding tone, only for his emerald eyes to widen in shock.

The lid was easily twisted off from the lip of the jar, needing only half a second of effort before the satisfying pop sound of release met his ears.

Then he watched as Rem's face become green, the _**abominable**_ odor inside blasting upwards to her face thanks to the new entryway she opened, forcing her to shove the jar back into his and Mother's hands before she ran to the bathroom, likely to vomit.

It took a second before the smell reached Ram's nose, making her eyes widen and instantly backed a good distance away from him while covering her nose with her sleeve. _From the opposite wall_. "You disgusting man…..! Why do you carry such an atrocious thing close to you….!?"

He may be the only one not suffering visible discomfort from the shittiest smell in existence but even he can admit that the smell _is _very brutal. Instead of laughing, he sympathized her plight, "Do forgive me. I had remembered from my research that its complete stage will only be indicated if a horrid smell permeates off it. It seems I failed to warn you both as well. Once again, I beg your pardon."

"So you spend much of your leisure time experimenting with things that smell like _that_…!? Ram fears the lifestyle you lead, Ser….!" She shuddered, pink eyes still wide as she pressed herself even further to the wall, as if it will save her from the disgusting smell in the room. "I don't think I will bring myself to clean up after you….!"

He chuckled lightly, "I can't blame you. But do not worry, I will clean after myself." He looked down through the lip of the jar, regarding the dead organ inside. Mother fished it out, letting it drip into the container before holding it beside him. "Well….as they say, bottoms up."

And he proceeded to_ drink the murky green liquid inside the jar_.

If Ram had been doing well in holding the contents of her stomach in, she finally lost the battle as the **horror** that graced her eyes crumbled her resolve, shading her face in the sickest color of green and she _took off _to the bathroom, joining her dear little sister in her sickfest.

The fact that he was staring at her the entire time indicated that he _fully intended _for that reaction to happen instead of doing it out of sight, sparing her from ever having the sight ingrained to her memory. Tilting the jar carefully, he made sure to drink it all in one go, making sure he _does not _allow even a single drop to spill.

It took a whole minute before the jar was empty and he exploded in a fit of breath, trying to regain his precious oxygen. Mother quickly started punching his cheeks harshly, hard enough to bruise and make him bleed in the inside of his mouth, including his sides with her back arms, making sure he doesn't regurgitate the most _disgusting _liquid he just swallowed, otherwise his efforts will be for nothing.

He had drank worse, and likely the elders of the Underground City had as well, but _this _one may have taken the top as the _worse of the worst _extracts he had ever swallowed! It was _**monstrous**_**.**

The extracts from the heart of the Murky Pool Leviathan were capable of increasing the potency of his mana, his immunity, fortitude and it might be able to purge small—no, _large _quantities of the poison in his system, sparing him from keeling over before he could reach his 30th turn. With this amount, he might be able to reach his 50th, maybe 65th turn. His spells will not be so costly anymore as well, maybe his bone creations will become even more durable just like Mother's. It's definitely worth it.

Then again, _it still tastes__ fucking disgusting_. His sides and cheeks hurt as well. Mother did a _very _good job in keeping him from joining the twin sisters in their suffering.

Something wet and slimy is placed in his left hand. Looking down, he saw that Mother had given him the shriveled heart.

Oh great. This is the _**worst **_part.

Having no choice, he steeled his resolve, drew the organ to his mouth and bit a large chunk from it instead of a small one, just so he could spare himself from Mother forcing it down his throat just like she did last time with the liver of a Great Bull that was overfed with too much mana.

As expected, "It tastes like shit…." He muttered before swallowing what he didn't chew and taking another large chunk. Whoever wrote those notes _clearly_ haven't done the last step. Tasteless they said, it will be quick they said.

With a fierce frown and a violent glow in his eyes, he said in a dark and gravelly voice, "What a load of _bullshit_…..!" He took an enormous bite from the shitty organ, leaving half of it remaining.

And the dear maidservants are still vomiting in the bathroom, the sound of flushing and rushing water slightly muffling their retching sounds.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He knocked timidly on Emilia's room door. Hiding his left hand, spending just a little bit of his energy to manipulate the horrid smell he was permeating off himself thanks to that shitty-jar until he become scentless, he awaited her voice to speak up.

"Oh? Um, who is it?"

"It's your savior." He answered, lightly raising his voice so he could be heard. "Pardon for intruding in your studies but I am in slight need of assistance."

"Assistance?" She parroted questioningly, "Why? Did you need something?" Her voice slowly became closer, and as she opened the door, regarded his current state, her face immediately twisted into worry. "Oh my goodness, Ser Emurdol! What happened to you!?"

If lacking context, he might have looked like he was pulled into an alley and was beaten senseless. His cheeks were bruising, his left eye was squinting slightly just to stay open and Mother's been patting the side she savaged the most very gently, as if apologizing in a nonverbal manner.

"Would you heal me again please?" He requested, his voice as even as always, as if his current state doesn't affect his mood. "There was a bit of an incident when I was dabbling with my belongings."

"What incident!?" She asked, still worried as she pulled him inside by Mother's front left arm, "Come and sit down! Goodness, what could have done this!? How did you get so beaten up!?"

"Do not be so worked up," He told as he was led to a chair in front of her study desk, "This is not outside the norm of my daily life." Really not out of the ordinary. As a Priest of the Serpent, someone is _always _trying to kill you. And apparently in his case, _Mother _is one of them.

He tilted his head so the dear girl could have better access to his cheek, which she took and began healing the damages. He sighed contently. He didn't speak until his face was back to its original state, pale and wrinkled. The image of a senior that carried the spirit of a youth in his green eyes. "She beat me black and blue." He informed simply before she could ask, gesturing to Mother's metallic arms, painful-looking studs built in the knuckles that had the inclination to _puncture _aside from break. The punishment she gave him was _merciful_ compared to the ones she gave to people who had the audacity of back-stabbing her _son_. "I was drinking a horrid extract and she had to make sure I did not vomit it out." He lifted up the hem of his light-eating robes, showing the sides of his waist that was beginning to purple amongst the pale flesh.

She gasped at the sight before she placed her healing hands against it, beginning to glow a pale blue, "By _beating_ you up?" She asked incredulously.

"Covering my mouth won't be enough." He said pointedly, taking slow and even breaths as the wonderful sensation of warmth began to spread over his abdomen, healing the bruises away. "Giving my mind something to think about instead of the disgusting taste is far more effective, specifically pain. It was by consent so all is well." As soon as the warmth was gone, he let out a content sigh of relief before standing up. "Thank you once again. That was exactly what I needed." He said genuinely, inclining his head gratefully before heading for the door.

"You're welcome. A-ah, wait!"

He stopped, turning to look over his shoulder, "Yes?"

She was silent, trying to figure out her words for a moment, then found them as she said in a sincere tone, "Be careful, okay? I just don't want you to get hurt. You already got yourself fatally injured by protecting me, you even killed your hand for me, so please…don't hurt yourself anymore."

…..

…..…..

…..…..…..

He was very glad that the Order taught him to hide his emotions well, because he was very surprised at how _**REAL **_her concern was. He knew very little people who had worried over him in the most human-like way possible, not because he was useful, not because keeping him alive had merit, but because he was _hurt_.

He was injured, therefore Emilia was worried. Emilia was worried, because he was hurt. That's about it, there's no other reason behind her actions. Nothing more, nothing less. Just pure _concern_.

He smiled, a smile that was full of his elated mood. A genuine smile. It seemed he was right to trust the dear girl aside from the fay.

He turned to face her fully, then Mother clapped the jingle of gratitude before setting himself down to one knee and waved his hand grandiosely, giving more than the appropriate amount of his unique mana to the dear girl. He watched as she felt the sensations of vigor roll across her body, barely able to contain the rush of energy filling her mind before she held her composure back in an amazing display of willpower.

This girl really is interesting.

"Wh-what was that?" She asked, her tone slightly high-pitched as her state of mind is still in a state of robust enthusiasm. She even fiddled with her hands erratically without stopping. "I feel like I could run around the mansion and not be fatigued….! What did you do to me…!?"

Hmph. He rose to his feet before answering, "That was a Thank You." Heading for the door, he left her something to remember before he closed the door gently. "Use it well and study hard, I will cheer you on from the shadows."

And with that, he left Emilia's room and headed back for his own.

Now to get rid of the Taint that's been clouding him ever since coming to this world. It was an anomaly in of itself. He wasn't sure how he got it, he wasn't sure how it was permeating out of him, and he couldn't _banish _it. Something that he thought was _impossible. _It's a bit unnerving that _no one_ was particularly bothered by it, especially during breakfast.


	5. Skeletal Right Hand

"Aaaah….this is nice…" Absolutely nice, he can freely admit. The rivers of the Underground City were murderously cold, quoted by Above-Worlders who accepted their beliefs and lived the way of the Serpent. Having bathed in waters for so long since birth, he had developed an immunity for cold temperatures. A blizzard can still kill him but a simple snow wouldn't and only the Northmen could hope to match. Having to bath in _warm _waters like this is nothing short of pleasurable. He could feel the stiffness of his muscles, accumulated from the last harsh battle he suffered aside from that assassin in the loot house, loosening pleasantly.

Having known the location of the bath thanks to information given by the maids who are still recovering from their sickfest, he was quick to come here with a new skeleton in tow, created from the bone dust in his pack. But after this, he's in a bit of a loss as to what to do next. He did say he'll find answers but only at night time where he is most comfortable. It's not like he's in a hurry or anything. Should he continue experimenting? Should he tour around the mansion and know its layout? Or simply sleep till night?

He looked at the lone, jawless skeleton standing in the corner, empty voids staring at nothing while awaiting its next orders.

Maybe he'll look over Mother's arms and check for damages. She had been severed the day before, after all.

He splashed some water into his face, wiping his eyes and smoothing his white locks back. Turning to his right hand, he could still see its sorry state though the waving waters. Frowning darkly, he raised it above his head and smashed it against the waters, creating a larger splash and overflowing to the tiled floors.

"Fucking burden…" He was not supposed to be _alive_? Why the hell is he still on _this _side?

His head snapped to the direction of the sound of a door opening—By the Dragon!

"_Hiii_, may I _joooin_ you?" It was Lord Mathers.

And he was fucking _buck-naked_!

Without the make-up and the outrageous attire that would make women jealous, his true flesh is seen for all its glory: he was well-built, he had a pretty face, but his manhood…

….it was the most _horrifying _sight of his life, worse than the most dreadful hell-spawn he subjugated to the Dragon, worse than the darkest corners of the Void…how was something like _that _even **possible**…..!?

He quickly looked away and stared into his dead hand, hoping to forget the sight with his _misfortunate_ and _destructive_ decision. Yes, his decision is far worse than that _thing_! This dandy's manhood holds little relevance! Having a large _dick _doesn't matter in any way!

"What's _wrooong_? Was I too dazzling?"

"You may enter…" He gritted his teeth as he ignored the question, eyes wide at what he just saw. "…but keep your distance."

"Ooooh, have I offended you or something?"

"You haven't," He snapped, using all of his will to get that image out of his mind, "Just get in."

"Then don't mind _meeee_." The water sloshed and waved as it accepted the new occupant, but Lord Mathers was seated barely a few inches away from him. Haven't this dandy heard a damn thing he said!? He said keep distance! "_Woooon't_ your skeleton friend over there come join us? It must be lonely in the corner."

At least he gave something for him to think about instead of that _monster _in-between his legs, and he was quite surprised that the dandy would allow a _skeleton _of all things to join him in the bath. This lord is clearly above common idiots who are easily repulsed by such things.

Mentally shaking himself back to a composed state of mind, he answered him, "A friend is someone I trust other than myself. That construct is just an extension of my will. It has no autonomy and independent thought, merely another pair of arms and legs. It's simply there to assist me once I need to leave."

Lord Mathers stared at his stumps through the water, his cheery face cracking slightly in sympathy, "I _seeee_ that. But why not have Ram or Rem help you? I _diiiid_ tell you that they are at your disposal as well. Or are you just shy?"

He chuckled, thinking about their green sick faces. "Considering what I've made them go through, I don't think I have the will to overwork them at the minute."

Lord Mathers tilted his head, "What did you _doooo_ to them?"

"Due to being present while one of my experiment samples with the most atrocious odors are outside their containers, they didn't have the fortitude to hold on to their breakfast for long and instead retched on my sink and toilet."

The lord stared, blinking as he processed this information, "_Weeeell_, that's quite a happening. And what is this about experiment samples?"

"An extract that will increase my immunity against poisons and other venoms." Not exactly the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. The shit-jar was also supremely capable of heightening toxin resistance as well as increasing the corrosiveness of his own personal poisons that he could create from practically _nothing_. "It's absolutely disgusting, believe me. Do not attempt drinking it as I did unless you have the will and courage to eat your own feces."

That got the dandy lord to recoil, cringing backwards with his mismatched eyes widening at the information. Oh, he's _very happy now_! He's been looking forward to that reaction ever since meeting him! _"M-myyyyyy….._I fear the lifestyle you lead, Ser Emurdol…."

He threw his head back and laughed, his cruel-sounding laugh echoing throughout the bath, shaking the waters with his twitching movements. As his mirth was spent, he replied with a smile, "The Fair Maid said the exact same thing, but I did warn you, Lord Mathers: my habits are your taboos."

"I don't think I have the will to ask what they _aaaare_ anymore…."

"That's the smartest decision you'll ever make, trust me." His eyes then flashed, he's not sure if Lord Mathers saw them through the steam, "My people work better alone, and I'm no different. Avoiding the living has its benefits."

"So you prefer people who do not _aaaaask_ questions? Or do not talk at all?"

He smiled wickedly, eyes flashing green momentarily, "One of the reason why I prefer working with the dead than those with a heartbeat."

Lord Mathers wore a smile, "Then I am _deeeeply_ honored that you are willing to talk to me."

He hummed indifferently, "For following along with my request and treating me like a human instead of a potential threat, you earned it along with Emilia."

"Oh? And what about Ram and Rem? Are they treating you well enough to _eeeeeearn_ the privilege? Are you getting along with them?"

He huffed through his nose. These questions are starting to wear him down. "I have no quarrel with them. I find myself liking the Fair Maid, Ram the more she talks. Though, it may be take a while before the Dear Maid, Rem earns my good graces."

"Go _eeeeeasy_ on them. Those sisters live for each other and support each other, it's only right for them. Whatever Ram could not do, Rem will cover for it. There's _noooo_ one else who could do better in doing their respective roles for the other than themselves."

"And just like that, they earn my respect." He smoothed his wet white hair back using a comb he made out of his attendant skeleton's jawbone lined with sharp teeth, "Siblings _must _help each other. Only a few select people could survive on their own."

"Do _yoooou_ have a sibling, Ser Emurdol?"

His eyes wore a sad look, something he was not afraid to show when this topic comes up. "I wish I had. In my culture, siblings are as valuable as your own life and families with only one child are….uncommon. When working outside the City, siblings are the only ones we can easily accept as company aside from ourselves and the dead."

Lord Mathers hummed in interest before splashing some water to his face and smoothing his long dark-blue hair back, starting a new topic, "I haven't gotten to mention it but you're actually very pale. It puts my cosmetics to _shaaaaame_."

Hmph, "I wouldn't doubt the Dear Girl, Emilia to be any different. When I met her in the capital, I was actually surprised for her having silver hair other than me or my people."

"Do all your people _caaaarry_ the same appearance?" The dandy rested an elbow on the edge of the bath and supported his cheek, "Pale skin, white hair and _greeeeen_ eyes?"

"Only the eyes have any form of distinction," He remembered those having onyx, grey, pale-blue, and the rare red. What made them unique compared to common folk was due to how _bright _they are despite the dark climate of the city they lived in. Only those of the Order could make them flash or glow brightly in their spell-casting, "Everything else will be an easy indication of who we are to Above-Worlders."

"And I remember you saying that you suffered rather _uuuuunjust_ treatment for such a thing."

"Unjust is too understating." He held his bone-comb before him, tapping into his powers to melt the solid anatomy before it reshaped itself into a shaving razor. He didn't have a stubble but the memory of the church and its zealots brought back the time when he slaughtered a party of holy knights who hunted him down. He used the same razor to gouge out their eyes before he sent back the one survivor home as a lesson. He had a jar of their remains to remember the day. "My people suffer for it from idiots who blindly obey the church. They just don't get it. Our magic is hardly any different than the ones they use." He was getting even wearier. Whether it was from the bath or from the memory, he wasn't sure, but he sure as hell is not going to speak any more of it.

"I'm sorry to bring it up." The dandy apologized.

He whipped his hand on the waters in front of Lord Mathers, sending a large wave of water to the dandy's face.

"Deserved!" Lord Mathers exclaimed with a wet-faced smile before he wiped his pretty countenance and said, "But I truly must say: your magic's really unique. And I know well that you are a necromagus. While raising the dead is rare nowadays as well as difficult to execute, it _iiiis_ not actually unheard of. But your bone spells are unlike anything I've _eeeeeeever_ seen."

He hummed indifferently, his gaze still transfixed at the water ever since before Lord Mathers entered. Then a thought came to his mind. He asked, "I'm curious. What kind of magic does this land adhere to?"

Confusion fell on the dandy's face, "I don't know _whaaaat_ you mean by that but in this kingdom, we live in a society built on the _uuuuse_ of magic. Magic crystals, specifically. Do you know what makes the waters warm?" He asked, lifting his hand out of the water and the accumulated liquid on his palm streamed past his fingers.

"No, and I never think too much about it." It's not like he must get too attached to hot water baths anyway. It will deteriorate his developed immunity to the cold.

"It's quite simple. You _seeeee_, underneath the floors, there are fire-crystals that makes the water we are indulging ourselves in warm. To _triiiiigger_ them, it needed only the presence of any living thing. Thus the waters rise in temperature."

"….astonishing." He said in a quiet breath. This was actually mind-blowing to him. From what Lord Mathers have said, it was a complete clue that this world is absolutely _not _like his. Completely _paralleled_.

"In what way _iiiis_ your society is built on?"

"Not like this. The common people are primitive." He answered, still in the midst of his shock. Externally, he betrayed no such emotion. "Only magi lived in a lifestyle supported by magic, and my people are the only ones that are a close second, but the Above-World is built very simply. Wood, stone, and fire. That's all they lived by." For the second time, he turned to face the dandy, "Do your common folk utilize these 'crystals'?"

"Well, _yeeees_." The dandy confirmed, as if it was something everybody knew. Well, in this case: everybody except him. "It made life _eeeeeasier_ for them."

He stared owlishly before turning to face the waters once again, "Huh…." Definitely paralleled. This world is absolutely not like his own. He's been everywhere in the charted as well as uncharted territory of Pandemonium, and this place did not exist in his home world, especially those animal-men he saw in the capital coexisting with humans. If anything, they were the same spawn he slaughtered in the behalf of villages and settlements who were terrorized by them.

If this world's spawn are capable of living like a human, he's going to be very conflicted if he's ever faced with one. For now, that's not important. He'll ask this, "In terms of spell-casting, what are the basic elements that one could manipulate?" If anything, he's dying to know. If this world is paralleled, it has to be different.

"Instead of _maniiipulating_ the elements of the world, we basically have an affinity to them. Four, specifically." He held up a finger, raising another in each enumeration. "There is fire, to manipulate temperature. There is water, to regulate life and healing. There is wind, for movement outside the bodies of living things. And then there's earth, for movement within bodies."

He was speechless for a second, "Strange….in my land, healing is a separate form of magic. And my people's magic is _based _on life, _another _separate form of magic." He pointed at the skeleton in the corner, motionless as always. "That construct has _nothing_ to do with water."

The dandy held his chin, brow knitted in thought, "Yes. It _iiiis_ strange. Maybe your people's magic is on a league of its own."

He nodded in agreement, "That is _true_."

"And you _saaay_ that healing magic is a separate form of magic." He hummed in thought, "In my theory, it might be because your land has a _raaaaather_ limited perspective in regards to the utility of elemental magic." He turned to face him. "If you will allow me, may I look over what kind of affinity you have? I'm very interested, you _seeee_."

Count him in. He's very interested in how his magic is viewed in a different perspective, "Yes, you may. How will you find out?"

"_Weeell_, for an accomplished magician such as I, I can simply identify it _byyyyy_ touching you."

The boast in his voice was clear, but it had a legitimate place so he did not say anything to demean it. "Be my guest,"

"Then _excuuuse_ me." He placed his palm on his forehead, then began to chant a strange phrase, "_Myon. Myon. Myon. Myon._"

What the hell? How is _that_ the way to identify magical affinity? If anything, it's just stupid. Practical and quick, yes, he can agree to that, but still stupid. Most of the well-trained magi of his Order would do so simply by reading the magical signature and circulation.

"Oh _myyyyy…"_ There was a sincere look of surprise on the lord's face, "….commonly, all individuals are capable of only 1 element but you master 3, and one among them is a _raaaaaare_ element."

He was admittedly surprised, but not so much. He may have manipulated _some _form of elemental magic in his talents but he doubted to have any stronger inclination to them. He's far versed in the arts of his people. And he had _3_, as opposed to the norm of 1 in this world? It must be because of his origins. It has to be the case. Magi in his land could learn any elemental magic and as many as they can instead of being restricted to one, "What are these three?" He asked, eager to know but his inflexion betrayed no such enthusiasm.

"Earth. Fire. Darkness."

The first two he can understand but the third one was actually different from the four Lord Mathers mentioned, "_Darkness_. I didn't hear you mention darkness."

"I have not mentioned it _buuut_ there are actually other elements besides the four, namely Darkness and Light. _Hooooowever_, because they are such uncommon elements very few people would have an affinity with, I _deciiiiided_ to exclude them."

Darkness and light…pfft. _Typical_. It's how the idiots differentiated the magic the Holy Order and the Order of the Serpent wielded. While not far from the truth, their views on good and evil magic are _absolutely _narrow. Good or evil magic does **not** exist, only the magi casting them is subjected to such labels. The only time that a form of magic is considered evil is when even the Order would agree to the label.

He asked the dandy, "What is darkness capable of?"

"Well, it's a very _iiiinfamous_ affinity." He told with favor, "You can obstruct an opponent's vision, slow his movements down, deprive him of his hearing, and so many others. Quite convenient."

_…What the hell?_

"….We call those curses." He pointed out.

"Curses?" There was the light of interest in Lord Mathers' mismatched eyes, "Are you a shaman from Gusteko?"

If this lord has no love for shamans, he shares that dislike. Cheap imitations of his Order, and he's personally proud of having the eradicated an entire clan of them.

If he's going to make things straight with this dandy, then it's better to be blunt.

"I am a _Necromagus_," He told, the pride and dignity of a Priest of the Serpent lacing his tone. He decided to fully cement what he is to this archmage, uncaring of whatever opinion he'll get out of it. This is who he was and he won't change himself for anyone's sake. "A practitioner of the dark arts and a wielder of the energies that govern life and death. We create bones, manipulate the flesh of living things, even our own. We drain the life force of others, expel poison out of our bodies as if it was sweat, we are even capable of giving _life_ to the unmoving."

Eyes burning green, he held up a fist and watched his necromantic energies brew starting from the knuckles and spread all over his entire arm, shifting the mana in the air, almost _tainting _it like a disease. "What your darkness element does, it's what we call curses. Not only are we capable of weakening or depriving the physical senses of living beings, but we are capable of bending the rules of _their__ reality_. You hurt me, you'll suffer the same wounds. Come closer and you will turn against your allies. Stare into my eyes and you will see your nightmares come to life. Come at me with murderous intent and you'll no longer be able to lift your own body. Touch me and you will fall to illnesses quicker than you could breathe."

He turned to the dandy, shutting off his brewing mana and allowing the energies in the air to revert to normal, the acquired taint quickly dissipating, "Others may attain these feats but no one else can master _all_ of them except the Order of the Serpent. _No one else can._"

The lord stared without blinking all throughout, his cheery expressions put aside as it revealed a grimace, turning him from an eccentric pretty boy into the very dignified archmage that he truly was. "Your magic truly is interesting, Ser Emurdol." Then his smile returned, brushing off what happened as nothing special, but it was clear to him that the dandy's opinion on him hadn't dropped. It only rose, "And that was _such _a _grandiooooose_ performance. If you would have the time, will you please _shooooow_ me an exhibition of your people's magic?"

Now this is a strange request. If he could remember right, no one….yes, _no one _has ever wanted a demonstration of the dark arts. Not even the archmages he known to have held the principle of never wasting mana, even if for a demonstration, would want one.

The open-mindedness of this dandy of a lord intrigued him. And just for that, he'll humor the request, "I'll allow it, but I _strictly_ forbid teaching them to anyone, not even you. My people's belief regarding magic is simply put into this, and I know very well that the magi of my land uphold to it as well: To learn magic is to earn utility, knowledge and truth. To learn magic for the sake of power is perversion. To have more than you needed….it makes you an outsider in our eyes." He lifted up his good arm, holding the bone razor before shifting it back into a jawbone as he scanned its structure like a jewel, "All the spells I learned is predated by _need_ and _preparation_ for certain circumstances, _never _for the sake of learning it. Why learn a fireball spell to kill someone when a bone spear could lend the same result? Why learn a frozen bolt to slow down something when a fang of decay could do more? Why learn a protective layer of frost when you could learn the bone cyclone, capable of both protecting _and _harming as well as creating."

"Simply _puuuut_, you prioritize the practicality of the spell." Lord Mathers said with a smile.

"Exactly." He nodded in agreement, "My curses are built solely for combat and operations that demand subtleness, disruption and immediate success. But they are all costly spells so I tend not to use them unless I have to."

"But you _doooo_ know the saying 'Better have and not need than need and not have', yes? Sometimes having _moooore_ than you need tends to give you an advantage."

"I know, which is why I prepared for _every _situation." With a smooth flick of his wrist, the jawbone in his hand flew to the skeleton in the corner, landing precisely in the right place of the construct's skull, giving it the perfect grin the dead are known for. "My experiments are a testament to my efforts, as painful as it is." He faked a gag, "A price to pay for your dedication."

A grim smile crossed over the lord's face, staring into space rather seriously, "I, for one, understand dedication _veeeeery_ well."

And just from that tone and line, he discovered something about the lord of the mansion: He will do _anything _to achieve his goals, even if it meant discarding something precious. The sociopathic devotion that cared for nothing else but its own purpose.

He once harbored such a thing, and he paid for it in a way that struck deep. And after that, he changed.

It surprises him that sometimes, once in a while, people Above-World are sometimes no different than the ones who lived Underground.

He inclined his head and lifted himself up to the edge of the bath after dunking himself beneath the waters for an uncertain number of minutes, "I will now depart." He snapped his fingers and the clicking sound of bones cracked through the air as the skeleton was now mobile, coming over to retrieve its master.

"Finished bathing?" Roswaal asked.

"Yes." The skeleton picked him up under the arms and he was placed in a backpack position behind the construction as it held the opposite arms of its master in front of its chest, "If I stay any longer, I might pass out. Thank you for your time, Lord Mathers." He and a skull nodded as one, "It was refreshing to share my capabilities with an open-minded archmage instead of the idiots who think they're above others just because they just learned a very amateur spell that I could eat at my leisure."

"You're _veeeery_ welcome. See you before nightfall. We'll have that _eeeexhibition_ before dinner."

"I'll be waiting, Lord Mathers."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The Dear Maid's eyes went wide when she saw him and his current company, and light blue eyes steadily grew colder and warier as he was nearing her. He was quite amazed that she could change the impression of her eyes while everything else doesn't. Then again, that's a poor mark in regards to emotion suppression in the Order's criteria.

"Ser, what is that?" She finally asked as soon as he was in a proper speaking distance.

He stopped walking, the skeleton he was pushing with his good hand smoothly stopping in the same beat as its master. "I'm sending this fellow to its recycling." He won't try to mention that he felt her eyes when he walked with it onwards to the bathroom. Her questions were literal bullshit, done just to draw information out of him or gauge his reactions in case he tries to dodge it.

"Recycling?"

Except this. It's not a bullshit question, but it had the undertone of wariness. "It served its purpose, now it must return to dust." He answered simply. If his right hand had been mobile and active, it would be clenching and unclenching into a fist, expressing a sour mood. "But since it is wet, I have to send it outside to dry in the sun before I destroy it. Wet bone dust is useless, you see."

"I…see." The Dear Maid conceded, blinking owlishly before her eyes caught the dark sickle in Mother's right front arm. "And you need that weapon and that cloak to recycle it?"

She veiled the suspicion in her words _really_ well, even though he expected such as he had donned his dark cloak, sans the hood. Compared to everyone else in this mansion, only this little girl has expressed the highest amount of suspicion towards him, expertly subtle it may be. Unfortunately for her, he had this dance _so _many times already that he could see the pattern already.

"No." He answered, then instantly felt a pang of unpleasant emotion cross over him. Damn it, he was trying to keep his mind off it and _he_, of all people, just brought it back to his own attention just by that one word. His wrinkled face creased in displeasure, eyes burned bright and his teeth gritted at the mere prospect of it. Damn it all to hell.

_Why? Why? WHY!?_

"Ser? Are you alright?"

He shook his head mournfully, taming his expressions back to its stoic state and failing miserably, showing only a brooding look. The glow of his eyes have dimmed, but it still shined amidst his bone-white complexion. "_No_. I won't be once I'm done." At least his tone of voice didn't change since the start of this conversation.

"Why? What will you do?" Her questions were cleverly disguised with concern, and the true emotion behind those words did nothing more than piss him off even further. His skills in emotion suppression did its magic well. His brooding expression didn't lapse to anything else from her words. If he had been alone with her, there would be no mask and the skeleton would bare its fangs.

"I made my choice, Dear Maid." He dared not look at her, only facing forward and revealing his dead hand by letting it hang beside him, making sure it's revealed from the opening of his cloak. He saw her face it in his peripheral vision, "I'm severing this hand, and it won't be inside this Mansion nor near here."

He didn't wait for a reply and walked onwards, he and the skeleton passing by her in a quicker pace compared to earlier, not having any inclination to discuss the matter. He's doing his best to ignore the inevitable and even if he can't, he's forcing his mind to be casual about it, and any distractions will only force him back to the truth. The truth itself he can accept without question, but the _meaning _behind that truth was what horrified him. Not even a second he wants to think about it.

The body is merely. The soul is eternal. The body can be shaped. Souls are eternal. The body can be broken. The soul is eternal. The body means little. The soul is eternal. As a Priest of the Serpent, your own flesh is your greatest weapon as well as your greatest hindrance to your passage to the Dragon. You are a soul given a body in order to live, to find their place and purpose in the living world, to learn truth and seek knowledge. What's the loss of a hand going to do to that goal?

"Wait, Ser. Where are you going to sever it?"

**_DAMN IT!_**

"Outside." He snapped coldly, voice no longer stoic. "Some place where no one will disturb me."

"But where outside?" He could hear her pacing after him, "Are you planning to do it in the gardens?"

"No." His breaking point was coming close, and every word out of that damn maid's mouth is wearing down his patience, "It will be outside the gates, so you will have nothing to clean up afterwards."

One more question and he will—

"Then Rem shall accompany you."

He stopped walking.

….

…..

…...He came close to snapping out of control there. If she had dared opposed him, he would have lashed out at her right then and there.

Alongside the skeleton, he slowly turned his head towards her, cold green eyes glowing in fury meeting light blue through the tresses of silver, and the suspicion in her mien continued to linger.

That was not supposed to be surprising. Distrust is a constant in his daily life. He had handled himself properly in this situation many times before, always being the one in control over the other. Why was he about to lose his composure _now_?

He sighed tiredly, Emotion Suppression at play. His eyes returned to their neutral dim and the fires of his anger is doused by his will of iron. "While you do, do _not _speak to me."

He began walking again, his skeleton mimicking his every movement with uncanny accuracy from the hip up. The construct's movements were rigid, tempered by an aggravated mood. Even its footsteps had a light stomp. She felt a twinge of guilt when she saw how the man equally expressed a sullen demeanor. He was about to amputate an arm that suffered necrosis and she's obstructing him with meaningless suspicion.

And when she stared at the skeleton's back for too long, its head suddenly snapped to twist 180 degrees backwards, fully facing her once again. Its face had completely warped into something that's absolutely not human: the round sockets for eyes distorted into the impression of a glare and its teeth had grown pointier, sharper, a silent death threat escaping its moving jaws.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He should thank that damn maid. She angered him just enough to make him become firm in what he's about to do. Just then, he's been stuck in his own head, mulling over everything. Thinking over everything. Remembering everything he had done when he had a full-functioning right hand. He dared not think too much of what's to come when he no longer has it, when he finally separates the remnants of it. Such thoughts wore him down, and if he had even come close to the door outside, he might have turned around and instead retreated to his room.

And all she did to make him realize how those thoughts were irrelevant and useless was just piss him off.

Yes. He's thankful. He's _very _thankful. He's no longer having any second thoughts. There isn't any more uncertainties in his decisions. He's doing it. He'll definitely do it. There won't be any regrets when the deed is done.

His hood drawn on his head, blocking the sun from attacking him without mercy, he headed for the gate. His skeleton was already sent to stand in the middle of the yard like a morbid lawn decoration, a contradicting element amongst the life around it, just so it could dry off the remaining drips on its person before coming to his room to be recycled.

The sickle in his left hand and the metal gate before him, Mother bent her legs, lowering his torso close to her knees before ejecting off the ground, reaching a height appropriate enough to brush his soles at the top of the gate and slamming his steel boots back to the soil upon crossing over it, creating a puff of dust.

Without waiting for the maid, he continued treading forward but towards the forest instead of the road ahead of him. He won't be doing this in an open space where many could see him. Somewhere private would be good, a place where a clear view of himself from afar would be very difficult, obstructed. Someplace heavily vegetated. A clearing or just in the middle of the forest is enough.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, he exhaled pleasantly as the abundant smell of life graced his nostrils. As a Priest of the Serpent, he always found peace and security in the places where bones and decay are many, especially graveyards, crypts, catacombs and mausoleums. It's what the Underground City was practically filled with besides its enlightened citizens. Life was never the center of focus for his kind unlike the Order of the Silver Tree, mages of nature; their polar opposites, but there's no rule against respecting their views. He has a strange respect for their culture, and Emurdol himself has a particular fondness for the animals they are close with besides the little ones. The smell of trees has never been so exquisite after his time there.

The memories made him feel at ease. He expanded his knowledge there, understanding the essence of life and the sustenance of every living thing. It's how he mastered the specialty to manipulate that essence, to manipulate _life_, making the revival and creation of dead and inanimate things become fairly trivial. It also led to the discovery that the mana of plants are particularly _wild_, attempting to drain it would led to a rebellion of his mana core that would eat him on the inside. Dead trees are apparently the ones for him to lord over, not the live ones.

He stopped walking, looking over the area around him to notice that he has gotten a bit far from the mansion and the thicket around him is quite dense, marking the area as untouched by human hands for a long time.

He nodded. This is the place.

Without further ado so he doesn't draw any second thoughts, he knelt to the ground, drew out the sickle and readied his right arm. Passing the weapon to Mother's front left grip, he pulled the sleeves of his robes back to his shoulder, revealing his bone-white skin, and held his forearm very tightly while 2 of Mother's right arms followed suit, grabbing the elbow and wrist to make sure it doesn't thrash.

And as quickly as his grip on his arm was firmly secure, Mother instantly chopped his dead hand off past the wrist, _without any warning_. She didn't warn him, she didn't even give him time to steel his mind nor time to prepare for the pain, she just _did it_.

To his credit, he did not scream despite the horrible sensation that began from the cross-section before it slowly moved to his head. Even so, he couldn't hold down his voice. A choked sound escaped him, then followed with a throaty growl as the searing pain took over him. Without a second wasted, the healing elixir he brought with him that was held in Mother's back left hand was put to good use, pouring its restoring liquids down on the amputated spot, sounds of sizzling and searing filling the air as the bleeding flesh and exposed nerves closed off, quickly clotting and turning it into a stump in an instant. Half the contents of the vial gone, Mother feed the rest to his lips, to relieve him from the pain.

It took several seconds for the effects to take in, from searing pain to a dull headache. Hacking the bitter taste the elixir left in his mouth, he spat out the saliva beside him and made sure not to look at the piece of himself he left discarded on the soil in a puddle of blood. And to make sure he doesn't look back, he passed a little bit of his energies to Mother's artificial body, allowing her to release a corrosive cloud from her hands that could melt any material: a green noxious cloud that seemed to move like it was alive, and it _ate _the decaying fist on the ground, melting down to the muscles, then the sinews, then the finally bones.

Seconds pass, the bones was consumed to nonexistence, as well as the organic material nearby it.

He was already gone before his mind inclined him to watch the entire thing happen, Rem remaining behind as he walked passed her just for a few seconds to spectate the devouring process before she followed after him.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Rem was harshly dismissed as soon as he was back at the gate, not even sparing her the slightest glance as he told her to get out of his sight before he leapt over it and returned to the yard, desperately trying not to think about his loss.

"What do you want, Fair Maid?" He told to the face staring down at him as he laid on the seats found on one of the gazebos of the expansive backyard. He would not be giving anybody the slightest damn even if they stared at him for too long but not this time. He desperately needed to be alone, and shouldn't this girl be doing her duties?

"You have mediocre tastes in regards to sleeping spaces."

"That's what you've been wanting to say?" He asked her rhetorically, his eyes shining unamusingly. "If my sleeping places are mediocre, I consider that a good thing, as not many people are privileged to sleep in soft beds."

"And yet no one is going to judge you even if you take the chance. Come the pass of 4 more days, you might not be able to get the opportunity again."

"You shouldn't strike me as one who cares, Fair Maid." He smoothed the silver hair that's lying atop his face to the side, shifting just a bit as his head lied atop his folded cloak on Mother's steel lap. "You should sleep in hard surfaces once in a while, it will strengthen your body."

"A pretty and cute girl like Ram would not have a place in regards to becoming burly nor does a refined maid like Ram would have a place sleeping on the floors."

"Narrow, Fair Maid." He said in a flat tone, appreciating the meaningless banter. It allowed him to forget the funny sensations he's been having with the place where his right hand should be. It still feels like he has it. He's been curling his fingers, twisting his wrist, even made many rude gestures that were close to murder in the Order towards Ram. The physical sensations one would feel when doing these things are nonexistent. He held back a horrible negative emotion from falling over him whenever he thinks too much about the emptiness.

"Listen, Ser, about Rem's behavior…."

He turned his eyes towards her, face stoic as he awaited her to finish speaking.

"Don't think too hardly of her. Compared to Ram and Lord Roswaal, she's the one who trusts you the least."

"My, how kind of you to tell me." Sarcasm dripped out of his lips like venom, his eyes beginning to glow dimly in the dislike growing inside him. He stared at the ceiling of the gazebo. "Be useful by telling me something I don't know."

Irritation was fluidly veiled with a single eye blink, keeping her features neutral and professional. "She's prone to do things without thinking. Your apparel and current personality is just nothing but oil to the fire of her suspicions."

"As if _everyone _I've met did not have the same thoughts, including you." He stoically retorted, his only remaining hand resting at the top of his boneless robed chest. "And just like everyone else before her, including Emilia, she should learn to come to terms with it. I speak as I wish, I act as I will, and I will not change my behavior for anyone's sake but my own."

"Any further and Ram, or Lord Roswaal, or even Lady Emilia might not be there to stop her from silencing you."

A thunderous snap erupted everywhere around her, nearly deafening her. It wasn't like a thunderclap, it wasn't like snapping wood either, but something sharper, solid, and _massive_. Her head swiveled erratically in all directions, trying to find the source of that sound. There was nothing in her field of vision that indicated its source. She turned her steeled eyes to the man lying down, "What have you done!?"

"Tell me, Fair Maid." He spoke as if a booming sound hadn't erupted seconds ago, staring up at the ceiling with a plain visage as emotionless as his voice, though his green eyes have glowed brighter than before. "Do you need to find out what happens to people who try to kill me without the slightest provocation?" The headless skeleton placed a clawed thumb against the side of his neck and slowly traced it all the way to the other side. "Instead of planning to kill me, your sister should prepare to die instead."

"Mind your words, Ser." Her cold tone slipped out, all notions of professionalism gone. "Make an attempt on my sister's life and Ram will make you regret saying those words."

Another thunderous boom, but even louder than the first. It forced her to clamp down her ears with her hands to protect her eardrums….only to realize that there wasn't any ringing. The conclusion was immediate from there: the sounds were an _illusion_. She turned to him—

—her nerves instantly ran cold, genuine fear overtaking her heart.

Elongated arms and fingers, black wicked claws, a pale emaciated chest that was 3 times bigger than the average man, a large head topped by mop-like white hair with a loose jaw, threatening to come off but stubbornly holding on, only revealing the stretched tongue and the sharp teeth. Lastly, the eyes were nothing but pure _black _through the gaps of the silver tresses. There was no pupil but it was clear that she was being stared at.

The monster had no legs, only a black mist beneath its hips and ending in a thin trail. She was not sure if she imagined the impressions of _faces_ amongst the shrouds but the monster itself did not have the inclination to let her figure out the answer. Her eyes never left the horror, an unnatural wave of _fear _atop the genuine one she felt was forcing the intention to run and hurry to put her little sister in her safety in her mind. But she held fast and fought back the terror this creature was forcing on her.

It spoke in a voice she did not recognize. It was a mixture of bones rattling, steel scraping together and flesh churning against each other, the sounds knitting as one, arranged in such a way that it could form coherent and understandable words. Its eldritch resonation did not hide the pure malice behind it.

"**Do not underestimate me, Fair Maid. An army could not kill me. Stone trolls of a twenty strong could not come near me. Not even a Supreme Sin could**. **He died to a small cut from a knife.**"

Its mouth did not move to speak, its sharp-teethed lower jaw continuing to drool blood and lolling out its tongue against the stone floor. The voice seemed like it was coming from all directions, not just from the creature itself.

"**Do I even have to tell you about the elite knights who died having seen **_**this **_**as their last memory before I took away their lives and kept their eyes for myself?**"

The smell of grass, the heat of mid-morning, and the unnatural fear clouding her mind—these details brought back her confidence, easily fighting back the influence riddling down on her as she spoke calmly, "Showing me these illusions just like when you did at the table isn't giving me any reason to believe your claims."

She watched the corner of his shredded lips extended even further, amplifying its terrifying visage with its smirk, "**You have not seen everything, Fair Maid.**"

And just like before, the shade had disappeared as soon as she blinked, delivering her to reality and revealing the actual image behind the Terror. Emurdol was simply there, lying on the stone seat of the gazebo with his Mother's lap below his head.

His eyes no longer glowing, he finished in his usual stoic and human voice, "Not a damn thing." His voice finally revealed color, _boredom_. It was as if he had expected this exchange to happen, knew what was going to be said and had planned his responses beforehand.

It gave her the implication that this had happened to him before….

Ram's brow furrowed at the slightest.

He turned to lie on his side, facing away from her. His voice held non-confrontational softness amidst the emotionlessness. "I only have one order for both you and your sister: treat me as a guest regardless how I act and I will not cause trouble nor harm anyone. Allow the five days to pass, and this mansion will finally be rid of me."

Ram held a conflicted look as she regarded the man, the shift from a sullen and hostile demeanor to an image of weariness and vulnerability baffling her. It was beyond her how the pale one managed to change the air around him so easily, especially when all he did the entire time was _lie down_. The metallic hand that stroked his head as if a mother would didn't help either.

She really must talk to Lord Roswaal about this. If this man could just be someone caught in the middle of their circumstances instead of a spy, then it is within her best judgment to do as he says: _let him be_.

She lifted up the hem of her skirt and curtsied, even if he wasn't looking at her. "As you wish, Ser."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He's used to sleeping on the ground, as he's far more inclined to get away from society and civilization unless truly necessary. Hard ground, soft ground, he could easily sleep through such surfaces, but the gazebo was actually unpleasant. He slept in and out, had to shift several times, and at some point, murderous rays of sunlight to hit him right in the face. He growled and crawled away from such brightness as if he had drank too much Fire Spirit till Mother picked him up and placed him on the second unlit bench on the gazebo.

He would have resorted to using the curse of Weakness on himself, but what he saw destroyed any prospect of a siesta anymore when he unwittingly brought his right hand to his face, thinking it still had a hand: the stump on his wrist now had a skeleton hand as his proxy right hand, connected around his forearm by a meticulous arrangement of bones that locked it in place. It even _moved according to the motions of his phantom hand._

"Ho….how….?" He breathed in disbelief.

"_Weeeell_, you're attendant was _geeeeenerous_ enough to sacrifice a part of himself for your sakes—why are you looking at me like that?"

The mere fact that he was caught by surprise was utterly belittling that his eyes glowed extremely bright in indignance and his teeth sneered as he glared at the damn clown that stood by the waist-high wall of the gazebo behind him, looking at him amusedly as he asked his question in his usual drawl.

"How long have you been there, Lord Mathers?" His voice hid none of his displeasure, especially when a guttural growl laced his words.

He pointed a delicate finger passed him, ignoring his hostile-sounding inquiry, "Since the skeleton fellow _oooooover_ there started marching towards you and offered you a replacement hand for that stump."

He turned to face where he pointed and was shocked to realize that the construct he was supposed to recycle stood _right in front of him _and he **didn't** even realize it, even as he sat up and regarded his new hand seconds ago. Looking at its right extremity, its entire right arm was missing.

Did the thing just move _on its own_?

That is NOT supposed to happen.

He did not put a Soul in this construct. He _never _does outside of combat, as they're prone to walking off on their own unless he reins them in. He built this creation entirely from the essence of life, making it a soulless being without freewill that lived just to serve his will. Such beings _never _did things independently.

So how in the Seven Hells did this _thing _just give him its arm and reshaped it into a _fully-functional_ prosthetic hand?

Unless….

"Mother, was this your doing?" He asked the nearest possible culprit, and to his surprise, she _didn't _answer. She **rarely** ever does. "Mother? Mother? Mother, answer me!" His calls became audible enough for Lord Mathers to notice his distress.

"Something _wroooong_?"

"Shush!" He hissed, annoyed. "Mother!"

His fully-audible shout finally brought the whispers he's been expecting to fill his head, waves of apologies and excuses gathered to his knowledge. Creasing his brow, ignoring everything she had to say, he forced out the question out of his lips, "Were you responsible for this?"

There was an affirmation, but there were twinges of a negative as well. It confused him. Whispers of the dead were never like clear and legible words from a mouth, more like feelings and emotions to convey thoughts as well as images and impressions to convey ideas and hints. Leaving it all to the listener to interpret them into words. What Mother had relayed was something he couldn't decipher properly.

"What do you mean?"

He did his best to form the messages he received into a sentence….her work….her assistance….the _skeleton's initiative_…!?

This construct _suggested_ the idea in the first place, not Mother!?

He got a full affirmative.

"You!" He pointed a bony finger at the skeleton, then surprised himself for such a gesture as he realized that his original right hand has decayed, been separated from him and melted hours ago. This prosthetic hand was imperfect, his sense of touch was still missing and he has no way of knowing how much strength he'll exert with it. If he was to handle an egg with it, he is more than likely to crush it by accident. Its downsides outweighed its practicality.

But that's not important right now. He pointed at the skeleton again and called in an audible voice, "You, come close." It obeyed without question, taking 2 steps so it could be at arms-length from him and he placed his left hand against its ribcage. "Who the hell are you?" He asked the inhabitant inside.

…..nothing. There was no response.

Gritting his teeth, he asked again, "I said: who are you? Is there a Soul inside this frame?"

The response was the same. No reply. He only had his own thoughts with him and not someone else's.

_What the hell?_ "Mother, are you certain of this?"

He got the equivalent of a rhetorical question that could only be translated as 'did you really think I could _lie_ of all things?'

The Dead _cannot _lie. That has been the truth of the world, as there is no flesh to hide the mind anymore. In death, your Soul is laid bare to the Dragon, every secret and every thought and every memory naked before its eyes. The Order learned to do the same in the living realm, to better understand the language of the Dead and speak to them in turn.

…..he sighed, his hand slipping off the bony chest as he leaned back against the low wall behind him. All this questions piling after another as soon as he wakes up annoyed him to no end. He'll find his answers later in his room, see if there's any reference to this phenomena in the books he have read in the Order.

"_Iiiis_ your private conversation finished?" Lord Mathers asked, leaning on the top of the low wall with his elbows and peering at him with his mismatched eyes.

"Forget it happened, Lord Mathers." He told, snapping his left hand's fingers before Mother secured herself to him once again, granting him his legs and her extra arms. "These concerns are for people in my line of work." Rising to a stand and donning his cloak, he faced the dandy, "Now, what gave you the mind to come here?"

"My, _haaave_ you forgotten?" The lord cringed back in exaggerated surprise, "You were supposed to exhibition your _maaaagic_ to me. I'm hurt, Ser Emurdol!"

"Keep those remarks to yourself, Lord Mathers." He turned to the skies, noticing that it was starting to get a bit orange. Has he really slept _that_ long? "That amount of time has passed already?"

"You slept soundly, you _seeee_. I would have woken you up sooner but you looked so _peeeeaceful_ that I could not do such a thing!"

An unfamiliar chill ran up his spine, and it was not pleasant. So Lord Mathers _watched _him sleep the entire time? This lord….is _dangerous_. He's going to be _very _careful around this man next time…

"Well?" He crossed his arms, then felt the satisfaction of doing this again without a dead hand obstructing the comfort. Now he has a hand with a different context of the word 'Dead'. "Where will you have me demonstrate?"

Follows after a long walk outside the gates and into the forest found at the left side of the road. 30 minutes passes in their trek with a conversation or two in-between, especially with the acquired knowledge that Lord Mathers has rights over magic stone mining, they reached a wide field that provided air and so much space. A fitting place for a showcase of power….or to kill somebody with no one the wiser.

"I _hooope_ you don't mind the location." Lord Mathers said beside him as he regarded the area, "What we're about to _dooo_ is very hazardous and I would like my property to not be caught in the _proooocess_."

"A wise decision." He nodded in approval for thinking ahead, though he had nothing to approve in regards to the dandy's hint of concern about his property. It reminded him of the _moronic_ obsession nobles had in regards to appearance. "The fresh air is nice, however."

Lord Mathers clapped his hands, "Then as we have no complaints, shall we _begiiiin_?"

"Let's." He moved to a bit of distance from the lord, then faced him. "Now, he's my first spell. Earth."

The ground in front of him churned like a cauldron's contents, the essence of life and an artificial soul fusing together with soil, and with a grabbing gesture of his hand, Life emerged from the earth. A bulky hand of 4 fingers grabbed at the sky before slamming against the earth, the owner dragging itself out. Massive shoulders that held a disproportionately small head came first, followed by its hulking torso that progressively thinned towards its small waist and legs. Now free from the ground, it stood gorilla-style and awaited its orders silently. The thing itself was made entirely out of clay and mud, its hands and feet hardened into stone compared to the rest of its body.

"Aaaah! How _maaaaarvelous_!" The Lord applaud fervently, glee coloring his clownish features, "An artificial life-form straight _oooout_ of the soil! It's like a reverse _buuuurial_!"

He was taken aghast at how his performance was received. This isn't even the most advanced form of creation the Order was capable of, and isn't this man an _archmage_? The golem itself isn't any different than his skeletons, merely an extension of his will with a lot more strength and fortitude compared to them.

Ignoring the input received, he proceeded with the next trick. "Fire…" Creating a golem would wear down the physique, and it's considered rare for a Priest of the Serpent to create even 2. Luckily, he's not subjected to such consequences like the average Priest of the Serpent, and even if he is, he has his ways around that. It's not like _he's _the one to create another. Transferring his energies to Mother, she formed the arcane symbols underneath his cloak with her metallic fingers, the fire magic from his world forming beside his golem and she infused necromantic energies to the mix.

Compared to his creation process, Mother's work was quick and immediate: in a flash of heat and light, like a flicker of a torch, the Fire Golem came to existence. But to his slight surprise, instead of being bulky and imposing it took the shape of a slender humanoid made entirely out of living fire. It may look dangerous but it's as harmless as a bonfire. Getting close and touching it will harm you. The larger one is far more destructive, capable of incinerating an entire village simply by its mere presence.

While Lord Mathers appraised the smoldering addition with sparkling eyes of blue and yellow, he settled to the all-known personal favorite of the Order: "Bone."

Using the remaining energy Mother had, she summoned a full set of bones from the soil. Her part done, he'll finish the rest. With the common knowledge of the human anatomy easily coming to his mind like second nature, thanks to meticulous study in the Order, he formed the bones together like a puzzle. A puzzle he's beaten so many times he could do this without looking, and in the aftermath of bones reconnecting and snapping in place, a Giant Skeleton stood beside the Mud Golem, towering over everyone present with its 10 feet height as it eyed Lord Mathers with a void gaze.

It was thanks to the Queen of Ivory, Mother herself that allowed the creation to not crumble on its own weight. Creating the stone-hard bones of trolls and giants out of _nothing _and giving it life is a feat of exceptional skill, especially when it is a very costly ability to do so. In the history of the Order of the Serpent, only Mother has been the most gifted Bone Mage that ever lived, the greatest in her generation besides Lady Sabarra. The most basic affinity of all necromagi is her super weapon, the most basic creation is her apocalypse.

And he was gifted as well. Whether it was by the Dragon's blessing or by Mother's power passing on to him, it was clear that he was above the average necromagi as well. But instead of bone, he had greater affinity over Life.

To give life to a body, to breathe life into something that has long since died, to even make the things that never moved mobile; these were the final feats that makes a Priest of the Serpent complete, and he had done so at an age earlier than anyone. Compared to common necromagi, he had no difficulty in making dead trees move or giving life to a statue. To give life to a set of artificial bones, built from nothing and has never been nor will be inhabited by a soul, just like the Bone Giant? That's _not _possible for anyone to achieve, except him and Lady Sabarra. It's rare for a Priest of Serpent to create 2 golems? He can create _20_ hulks of whatever element before he could fall under the strain. Having supreme power over Life had its benefits.

Together with Mother's artistic and resilient constructions along with his life-giving properties, the two of them are a mobile force of nature. The feats they have achieved back in Pandemonium is evidence of the fact. Every Supreme Sin there is dead thanks to the both of them, and that gave good publicity to the Order of the Serpent.

"Beware our power, Lord Mathers." The three creations took a stance, his hand—his skeleton hand aimed towards Lord Mathers, palm forwards as he sent them their instructions, "_This_ is _what_ we can do; what the Order of the Serpent can do. Now quiver, in the face of Lady Sabarra's power!"

And they charged towards the dandy. The ground shook underneath the mud golem's lumbering movements. A trail of ember and flames followed behind the Man of Fire, its shape shifting into something that's no longer human. And the skeleton giant simply sprinted, adding more intensity to the shaking ground with its own humungous steps as it reared back a bony fist to land a strike.

"Then _behoooold…._" The lord _floated_, his feet off the ground and levitating upwards to the air, his hands brewing with the unique energies of this world. "….the magic of the greatest magician of the Kingdom! To start, let me introduce to you! _El Fula_!"

Violence ensued and bones went flying.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The wind sent his hair flying behind him as well as his cloak, revealing the front of his bone-inlaid robes as Mother's swift dash allowed him to cover 100 meters under 7 to 8 seconds as he headed back to the manor. The exhibition and impromptu battle has long since ended, leaving him a little winded but nonetheless invigorated and satisfied. He's been stressed for some time and he needed to vent them out in a physical manner, and due to Lord Mathers' compliance to his actions, he was not disappointed.

Speaking of the dandy….

"You're _truuuly_ fascinating, Ser Emurdol." He remarked as he flew above him, hands neatly folded behind his back as he smiled at the running necromagus below him, "To think that your artificial legs could allow you to _ruuuuun_ that fast without breaking itself."

"I studied hard in order to avoid that, Lord Mathers." He replied, eyes a bit droopy in tiredness and his voice somewhat steady amidst the sprint. They weren't his legs anyway so that explains it, "And I was rewarded well for my efforts."

"I could _teeeell_!" Roswaal agreed with an exhilarated drawl, "To think that you could cut the distance between you and me in a blink of an eye, I was _absooooolutely_ flabbergasted!"

"If I had allowed my other arms to be put into play, it would have been a different outcome." Instead of decking Roswaal right in his pretty face covered in makeup, the archmage smoothly spun in place, his pale fist grazing his high-collar and exposing his back for a quick hand-chop by the lord, punctuating the word 'pork' as he did. He would have felt the full extent of the strike if it weren't for Mother crossing her arms to block it.

For a dandy, and a mage at that, he hits like a _hurricane._

The lord smiled, eyes sparkling at what happened earlier, "To think that you would summon an entire skeleton _aaaaarmy _on me….." He didn't sound displeased, only exhilarated as he was.

A wicked smile crossed his lips, "You won anyway, Lord Mathers. Other than that, that wasn't even the worst of it. Those skeletons could be holding arms, wielding magic, moving so quickly it evades your eyes, maybe even carrying the souls of long passed archmages like you. That army was simple-minded, nothing more than mindless animals recklessly throwing themselves at you." Any self-respecting necromagus could create a small army of skeletons, but the truly skilled ones would employ even more fighting power in their creation. And he's not one to show these abilities so openly in a play-fight. If he's going to do so, it must end with somebody no longer having a heartbeat in the aftermath.

"You were _hooooolding_ back!?" The lord's pitch rose in shock and exasperation. By the Dragon, his mannerisms are _otherworldly._ "And just when I fought so _seeeeriously_!"

"_Bull_-_shit_, Lord Mathers." He shot that claim down, throwing a spiteful glare in the dandy's position. _Lying _to a Priest of Death is a grave offense, and this bastard's lucky that he's only receiving a verbal lash instead of getting his tongue melted, "You held back by half. I held back by eighth. You of all people should understand that hiding your strengths is very essential."

"Aaah, I was _seeeen_ through!" Lord Mathers placed a hand to his forehead dramatically, almost looking like he's about to faint, then righted himself as he faced the direction they're going. "Nonetheless, it was a fun bout. Don't forget the _leeeeeessons_ I gave you, okay?" He told with a wink.

"I will not." He said sincerely, "Those spells were _truly _practical."

"Glad to be of service, Ser _Eeeeemurdol_. If you wish to improve on your arts of Dark Magic, turn to Beatrice for she is a _Maaaaster_ of it."

"Mm."

He had been taught earth spells, and they were _fantastic_. To create a rock formation with a simple phrase and a bit of mana circulation as well using a method unique to the denizens of this world, the results were _astounding_. Astounding enough that he created a wall of stone that stood at an extreme height of _100 feet_. The amount of mana he used was as equal to the cost of a bone wall, and it created _that_.

Extremely potent mana can be terrifying. He destroyed that creation with a fire spell Lord Mathers taught him, _Al Goa._ It was the result of yet another terrifying execution of destructive power outside of his anticipations. Not only did the monstrous fireball destroy the rock formation, it was at an extent that it _rained_ burning rock and stone everywhere in the process of the explosion. Which was why they were running back to the mansion and ending this exhibition quickly, fearing what might happen if it went any further.

Inspiration struck with these new learned spells. Using his creativity, he could create a _Rock _Golem out of the Earth Spell, leaving out a few complicated steps in the creation process and likely lessening the drain it will have on his psyche. And with the concept of the 'Gate' and 'Od' of the body acquired to his knowledge, his iconic spells of bone and death held the promise of becoming even more refined compared to the method he's used all this time. Bothering with this exhibition actually helped him.

"Tell me, tell me…" He looked to his side to see the lord flying beside him, his mantle flying behind as he 'lied down' on the air, holding his chin as he regarded his armored legs. "….your _oooother_ arms and these legs, they aren't controlled _byyyyy_ you, are they?"

He wore a wry smile, "It took you _this_ long to realize?" Especially after everything Mother did at breakfast.

"I was entertaining the _thooooought_ that you like to put on a show but your magic says otherwise!" He rolled his eyes to that, looking up to the sky to see it darkening. Night has come. Not a concern for him. He can see in the dark very well, but what of this dandy? "And I _haaaappened_ to hear you shout for a _person_ named 'Mother' back at the gazebo hours earlier. Could it _beeeee_…." He trailed off.

He only blinked, nodding in confirmation after considering the options with Mother. "Yes. The soul residing in this set of bones is my blood mother, who died of childbirth. Growing up as a parentless babe, I was raised by her while my guardians looked after my health." Behind his waist, where his own hands were, a metallic hand interlocked with his left. He squeezed it, "I don't know if you had assumed this but I was born with legs. I was a healthy infant."

The lord said no reply, attentively listening as he flew.

He appreciated his silence, "My freedom lasted as long as it could, then a…disagreement between me and a fellow priest led to my loss. It took almost a year for me to counteract with the loss, with another 2 due to unforeseen complications."

"I shan't pry." Lord Mathers said, a grimace in his clownish features.

He appreciated that. "But in time, Mother and I soon became one. A union that made me stronger than I ever had with my own legs. We fought and lived in the Above-World, together since my birth and never one without the other. We shared the same suffering, the same losses, the same victories and the same gains." A second hand, as well as a third and a fourth joined in holding his left hand, a belying warmth sent through the cold steel and to his heart.

"Then all shall quiver in the shared might of Mother and Son. I _eeeeenvy_ your fortune with her, Ser _Emurdol_."

"What fortune?"

"That a loved one would not leave your side, even in death."

There was no cheer nor drawl, and he could not miss the yearning look in the lord's eyes. It was a recognizable sight. It seemed even Lord Mathers himself had someone he wished had stayed with him despite their passing.

It was not something he approved of, however. It's only a sign of immaturity that Above-Worlders are severely prone to, "…yes." Unlike his case, Mother was already dead, and death is a something they both have been looking forward to. If ever she passes on and remained in the Afterlife instead of forcing herself into the Living Realm just to watch over him like she had before, he will only lament that he did not die together with her.

Such closure with the souls of the dead and the afterlife is something only for those who are willing to face the truth, and it's something the Order is _not _willing to teach, even to their own people. It's a personal thing that every human must experience for themselves by their own terms. _Everyone _in the Underground City has achieved this enlightenment, and those who had above ground are a severe minority.

"Aaaaahh! We're _hooome_!" And the lord bolts ahead, excited to reach his manor's doorstep.

He didn't try to match the dandy's pace, only going in his own as he did the same routine as before, jumping over the gate and clearing the distance from gate to door under 15 seconds while Roswaal waited for him there. "_Toooook_ you long enough."

"What did you rush for? The Dear Maid's cooking?" He made that sound like it was an insult. And the person in question who waited on the doorstep alongside her sister held conflicted emotions in regards to how she'll take that.

"Well, _yeees_!" The lord didn't seem to catch his intention, "Rem's cooking is rather superb, as you have experienced at breakfast."

"No disagreement." He did _enjoy _that meal, despite choking twice. "But I will head to my quarters early." He headed for the door.

"Sleeping so _soooon_?"

"Research." He corrected, his skeletal hand clenching into a fist, the ivory creating cracking noises against the strength he exerted. "If dinner is served, I would kindly request having it sent to my room."

"Of course." Lord Mathers agreed with a nod, turning to the Dear Maid. "Rem, you heard him. Make sure you give him a fine meal."

"Yes, Lord Roswaal." In an air of professionalism, the Dear Maid bowed, all the suspicion she held practically nonexistent behind it.

With a nod to the lord and servants, he departed inside the mansion.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He had said he'll research, he had told himself to investigate the phenomena of his hand as soon as he gets to his room. What he's doing is anything but. He's just sitting on his improvised study table, staring at his skeletal hand and thinking about nothing, not even the fact that it was capable of transferring mana as if it was his own physical hand could stir him.

The only thing that came to his thoughts before nothing else was simple: _what's the point?_

The Dear Maid had already came to bring him his dinner, deliciously cooked meals set on a try along with refreshments. She even _apologized _for her impolite actions earlier, and he felt her sincerity from it. He may still be sour about it but he let her off with a nod and a small order: 'you may leave'. It was a mercy.

He was hungry, a side-effect of the use of mana and physical exertions, even his stomach audibly demanded it, but the simple thought came back: _what's the point?_

He had the thought of going outside to talk with the Spirits of the Dead, learn all about Lugunica from them and even chat the entire night just to waste the time away till morning comes.

He didn't, and the reason was very simple: _what's the fucking point?_

What was the point of all this? Honestly, _what_? What the hell has he been doing the entire day? Why the hell did he get so friendly with that half-breed and every other idiot in this mansion? Why did he say those words at the table? Why did he _allow _5 days for himself? Why didn't he lash out and attacked everyone on sight? Why did he even come to a _compromise _with the lord? Why did he even suffer every _second _of this day? Why?

Nothing could answer them, not even himself or Mother.

His emotions were at a loss, jumbled and confused. Bitter, angry, frustrated, disheartened….and the last one he held back. If he had even thought of it, he would surely _break_.

He had given his life so much thought, and he had no regrets. He had a fulfilling life. He had done so much, so much more than the Order ever could. His name was destined to become legend, his accomplishments will be sung from the lips of the bard in the taverns and around bonfires, his people will no longer have to suffer the pain of rejection of the Above-World anymore….

….why did it leave him so dejected?

His state of mind had been stable, even after he was forced into this world and later threw himself in the circumstances of a stupid, naïve little girl named Emilia. Even if he had wanted to go home and settle down, another adventure didn't sound so bad.

At the time, it didn't.

To lose his hand right after, what pitiful circumstances. He huffed, chuckling mirthlessly.

His immobility was casted aside, standing up from the chair and walking to the center of the room as he looked at his skeletal hand, its intricate placement neatly locked around his forearm like vambraces only his Order would be inclined in wearing, and the hand to replace the one he lost: its mobility amazed him. It was beyond him how it moved according to his will.

Nonetheless, this hand saved him. He still has his will over it, even if it lacked the properties of the flesh such as touch. At least he won't have to give Mother a third right hand to have control on, they can go on their lives just like—

….

…go….on….?

…go on…._living_….?

Live? What?

…live….

…live…..

That emotion he held back….it arrived, and just like before, when he lost his beloved apprentices to the cruelty of Lucifer, it was _unmerciful_.

The simple thought of living the next day with Mother by his side was powerful enough to destroy his defenses and it came: **Despair**.

"**HAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!**"

He screamed. A scream of anguish. A scream of despair. A scream of misery. A scream of pain. A scream of agony. A scream of hatred. A scream of anger. All the negative emotions he had pent-up ever since discovering his _living _state, he expelled them all out in the most primal way possible. In a way that was unbecoming of a Priest of the Serpent. He would be given the disapproval of the Elders, especially if they hear the reason of his outburst.

A reason that defied their teachings.

Struggling, he forced himself out of Mother's bones and he fell pathetically to the floors while the former's frame stood aghast at his outburst. Intentionally, he let his head smack first before the rest of him, and everything else followed from there.

His hands viciously slammed against the floor repeatedly, the sound of flesh and bone meeting the floors resonating in brutal self-harm. His prosthetic hand was quick to crack, break and eventually shatter to several pieces, but it failed to do his despair any justice of expressing. His screams couldn't match either, not even the bleeding tears that escaped his eyes.

His heart was breaking, and the reality of his situation made it all worse. Even if his hands cracked, even if his stump was damaged, even if his forehead bled from its constant banging against the floor, he did not stop. He didn't want to stop. He couldn't.

He couldn't accept this. Not anymore. Not after everything.

Mother was quick to kneel in front of him, grab his wrists with one pair of hands and cradled his head to her skeletal chest with the other. His struggles only worsened from there. He resisted against her locking embrace, trying to escape her grasp and vying against her wishes to stop, screaming incomprehensible outpourings all the way.

Mother didn't relent, and even if she was just a frame of bones, metal and dirt, he made her strong and it backfired on him the sooner she disagreed with him. Her frame held him down without a problem but it wasn't able to express the sympathy she had for him and the despair she felt alongside him. She knew what was wrong, she knows perfectly well what drove him to this heartbreaking state, and if she could help it, she would have broken just like him, but her son's suffering outweighed hers more, and she could not just stand back and let him be.

Denied his passage to the Dragon. Denied his afterlife. Denied his peace. Denied even the freedom to _go home_, to _rest_, to finally be together in the afterlife as Mother and Son.

Emilia's act of _saving _his life had deprived him of any hope to continue living. He had held back this thought in the hopes of rekindling the will to live by looking on the bright side of the situation, an optimistic approach that idiots used to employ an illusion in their lives and eventually gain a nonsensical reason to continue. He needed that reason, just any reason at all to continue living a life after everything he's been through. But after so much thought regarding everything that happened the entire day, from the mistrust he suffered and the direct suspicion Rem had on him, he realized that he couldn't take it anymore.

He was brought back to the start. This new world was nothing but Hell. Even if he wished to go back Underground, they _don't _exist here. He has no way of knowing how he'll return. He's trapped here. The Order of the Serpent were feared, subjected to the prejudice of many, and even if the Order accepts this, not everyone could. Including him. He is unknown to this world, and it is no secret that everyone fears the unknown. And when he causes that fear simply by being _alive _for his lineage and powers, it will take no time before it drives _everyone_, especially the people in this mansion into a paranoid fury.

Mistrusted, doubted, hated, and _betrayed_. He suffered all these things because of that fear, and he took them all on just to make sure it doesn't happen to the rest of his people. And as if fate itself had a grudge against him, he was forced into a land that knew nothing of him or his people, or even the efforts he's done to take away the sufferings the Order goes through every time in the Above-World, just to spit at the efforts he's done.

It was nothing short of hopeless. He doesn't want to face those again. Not anymore. He's had enough of it.

He was _done_.

Slowly, the willingness to struggle further left him and his hands slowly slacked, his entire body weakening as he gave up, on resisting and on himself. His wails slowly reduced itself into pained sobs, and Mother consoled him as much as she can with her gentle touches: rubbing his back, patting his head and stroking his hair. Despite her efforts, he still continued to cry.

"Why…..!?"

A hoarse throat, a despairing voice, and a dying breath released a question that conveyed all the thoughts and feelings he had in these unacceptable circumstances.

"Why didn't you let me die...?"

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

I know, Mama…..I know…but this was bound to happen, anyway. Nothing we can do to prevent it. But unlike how he's going to react when he realizes that he can't Go Home anymore, this is only _merciful_.

You must understand. This hurts me as much as it's hurting him. I never wanted _any _of this to happen as much as you do. I care about him too. You're not the only one, Mama. I wouldn't be doing all the effort before if I hadn't.

**…..**

…

What are we going to do now? That's only obvious. Like I said, we will help him live. We watch over him and we'll be holding him up from now on.

You'll get your chance…..

…..you'll get your chance.


	6. Wooden Daggers

Another smooth glide of the sickle across the small piece of wood held by his left hand, another curl of skin joins the pile on the stone floor of the gazebo. Turning the nearly-finished wooden dagger and peering at the point from the bottom of the handle, he realized that there was unevenness at the middle. His frustration carefully held back, he continued the arduous process with the diligence he carried whenever in doing this little recreation. Both hands steady, he glided the blade across the uneven part of the wood and skinned off the—

_Snap!_

The wooden dagger snapped in the middle.

Yet again, it was thanks to this fucking _excuse_ of a hand not knowing the right amount of strength put in the shaving. And just when it was going SO WELL!

In a fit, he threw the useless piece of shit towards the pillar, watching as it failed to break into splinters and instead join the pile of other discarded prototypes under it.

Mother was quick to provide another shortened branch. Wordlessly and roughly, he swiped it off her metallic hands and started with the point of the dagger, taking slow strokes to not accidently snap it in half like the first time.

This fucking prosthetic is really impractical….but the point of this stupid carving thing was to learn control and precision to it. If he's going to be stuck with it, he'll have to grit his teeth. He chose to do this damn thing himself and he's not backing out on something he started himself.

Sparing a glance at the shadow of the gazebo created by the angle of the sun, it looked like an entire hour has passed since waking up and snagging a few clean branches from the residential trees. His belly already full after eating the dinner he didn't eat last night, he was quick to occupy his mind overloaded with negativity with a good distraction.

_Snap!_

….Hence this.

In a fit, his left hand is lit aflame using the engendered flame affinity Lord Mathers had improved, incinerating the failure it held into ashes, leaving charcoal smudges on his fingertips. Mother passes him another branch, he grumpily took it and set to work.

"Another bad one?" The fay asked a stupid question.

"Ugh…" He replied, not having any inclination to throw a snark in Puck's direction.

As he had learned yesterday, the dear girl has a morning ritual that involved regular communication with the Nature Spirits done in the gardens every morning, and Puck is finding the means to kill time until Emilia comes to retrieve him. And in this case, being petted by Mother's steel arms without any complaints for non-flesh digits stroking his fur. The former is seated right beside him while he tried to create a child's toy, a pile of sticks by her feet in case he broke another dagger.

"Not used to that new hand yet?"

The question brought back last night. The most demeaning moment of his life, losing his composure, breaking down and crying….

Pathetic. Absolutely, _pathetic._ At least he finally vented it, but he's still has lingering thoughts of disdain over his own life.

"….no." Setting down his sickle beside him, he held the bone hand out towards Puck, curling the fingers and intentionally making crackles erupt to emphasize its flawed structure. "Without sense of touch, texture, temperature, pain, and whatever else is there, it's a pathetic substitute." He curled it into a fist, and was _disappointed_, "Not even clenching it like this is satisfying. I feel no power and I fail to realize how much strength I exert." As a punctuation, the first joint of his index finger snapped off before the rest of the digits cracked, crumbling under the pressure done on itself.

Seconds later, he's left to only the last joint of his 4 fingers and _no_ _thumb_.

"I-I see….."

With a pang of bitterness, he repaired the skeletal hand back to its original state, the scattered bone dust and fragments on the floor floating up to his damaged palm, merging together like clay before completing. Flexing the fingers experimentally, he picked up the sickle and continued his work, exerting more force than necessary on the stick that he peeled off a large chunk of the wood. Deciding not to care, he proceeded with the other side.

Repairing the hand; trying to gain precise control of the hand; forcing himself through another day just to find the will to live—why the hell is he even doing all this? What was the point of all this?

He shook his head lightly, pursing his lips as he turned the wooden dagger sideways, trying to see the symmetry. "Hm." There was a bit of girth on the left side of the blade but it's something he can overlook just this once. He'll proceed to the hilt, the _easier _part of carving a knife.

It took a mere two minutes compared to the condemning 10 to finish, not needing his right hand as he only needed to glide the wood across the blade instead of the other way around.

And now in his hand was a practice knife for Above-World little ones. The little ones Underground would use a real knife instead. Knowing pain and suffering as early as possible is a virtue for them, it'll teach them cause and effect, caution and humility. Hollowing their eyes using their personal knives will come next after graduating their proper knife training. If he's the one to extract them again, he won't trust this stupid hand in regards to the operation. He had a full streak of perfect extractions, and he won't have that broken because of _this_.

"No offense but were you good at it with both flesh hands before?"

"None taken." He set down the first complete, if flawed, wooden dagger beside him. Mother passed him another branch. "Yes, I would be finished under 5 minutes if it was still with me. A figurine sometimes takes 20. A wooden golem would simply take a single minute but if I actually bothered with details like a chiseled body and a face, it would be half a day for me to finish. Two hours if I have a few skeletons at my beck and call"

"Whoa, really?" The creation of a golem would be impressive to the eyes of a minor mage but the Spirit's 'whoa' sounded actually genuine. He thought Puck was a Nature Spirit who is very well-versed with many magics. The fay eyed the pile of used wood on the floor for a few seconds before turning to him, "Say. Can you make a wood golem right now?"

He snapped his fingers to answer. The pile of failed daggers on the floor assembled into simple forms of artificial life. The simplest design: daggers for body, legs and arms, a little army of wooden dagger golems are standing at attention at the entrance of the gazebo.

He gave them one instruction, his voice too bored to be considered commanding but they obeyed nonetheless, "_Massacre_."

And so, a massacre of wood and twig ensues. Jointless limbs flailed at each other, sounds of clicks and clacks filling the air. At some interval, a dagger golem's arm or torso would be flying into the air, sometimes another's wooden body was split in half before another got mobbed by a group who had nothing but legs, kicked to death. The Spirit looked on with childlike amusement, eyes unblinking at the rather bloodless carnage. Mother ceased petting to not distract him.

And when there was only one survivor left, kicked to his distance before its assailant crumpled, Mother immediately raised her right sabaton up and crushed it into fine dust. He was slightly surprised as the leg came from the side instead of underneath him since he failed to remember Mother wasn't actually secure into him anymore.

_"Yowch,_ not even a survivor to tell the story?"

"No." He bluntly answered. Just the mere sight of that piece of shit pissed him off. A reminder of his _incomplete_ state, "It had no use to me."

"So _cruel_. Oh well, at least I get to see autonomous magic. It was quite good." So they call it 'Autonomous Magic' in these parts? It's called Summoning Magic in his world. A careful set of footsteps came near, "Hey, Lia."

"Hey, Puck. Good morning, Ser Emurdol." A bell-like voice greeted him, he paused in his work to nod back the courtesies before continuing the work, "How are you feeling today?"

Slowly moving the last stroke of the sickle across the dagger, he answered simply, "….unstable." It seems he's starting to get used to this hand. Creating the knife was starting to get simple. Its design and structure is still crude but that can be improved on. "This is good." He muttered before setting the toy down beside him. Mother passed him another branch.

"Unstable….I see" The dear girl did not seem surprised at his answer, "Ser Emurdol, are you alright?"

Hmph. He shook his head, wearing a wry smile. "No. I am _not _alright. The loss of a dominant hand isn't easy for me to cope, Your Ladyship." He's still mocking her, and his faux-polite tone could have fooled anyone into believing it was genuine. "This replacement is no solace. It only makes me feel less than okay. It's a pathetic loss."

"Yes…." He could hear the sympathy in her soft voice. What's with her? "…but that's not the whole reason why you're unstable, right?"

He continued to thin the branch with smooth strokes, his careful movements showing evidence of continued trial and error. Then he realized the implication in her question. He raised his stare up, looking back into purple eyes that _pitied _him. _Detestable_, "You heard me last night?"

She pursed her lips, unsure how to approach the sensitive topic. "Not really 'hear' but at some point in the night, we got deaf."

_Ah…._

So it didn't work. He wanted to make sure no one was able to hear his outbursts, but it seems they were still awake or had company they were speaking with at that time. "That was my doing." He had struck himself with the same curse too, depriving himself of sight and hearing. He couldn't stand looking at the world and he couldn't stand his own wails. He couldn't stand the Living World at that moment.

That was _not _like him to do so. Hiding from reality, just how far has he _fallen _in his despair?

"Ram and Rem were agitated, and I followed them as they ran for your room." Her brow furrowed slightly, the concern apparent in her countenance. "They thought you were causing an attack….instead, we found you crying when we entered your room. We couldn't hear you cry but you were…we could have comforted you, but your skeleton did not allow us to enter. It was shaking its head at us, as if it was saying we should leave you be."

Skeleton? The _defect _that waited at the door as soon as he woke up some time before dawn? Now he really should look into that phenomena. That damn thing's moving on its own and the last time he checked, it _didn't _have a soul inhabiting it.

Or was that Mother's doing?

"By the time you fell asleep, that's the time when our hearing returned. Then it—I'm sorry. _She_ carried you to bed and closed the door on us afterwards."

Hm. He should thank Mother for that. He needed his space, and he didn't want to acknowledge the fact that people _watched _him weep unless he was prepared to face that. Upon waking up with a dark shadow under his eyes, he had considered that the residents might have noticed the curse in the mansion last night. And he was right.

"Ser Emurdol." He watched as the dear girl took a seat on the unoccupied space beside him, speaking in the softest of tones, "If there's something that's hurting you…I'm here. You can talk to me. I probably won't be any help but I'll listen to them. It's the least I could do."

He flattened the line on his lips, looking down from her sympathizing gaze as he exhaled a breath, setting down his sickle and his unfinished dagger. "You're a kind soul…." His brow furrowed bitterly, fighting back the anger and indignance inside him from growing any hotter. "…but I don't want you to be troubled for the reasons of my misery. You will not like it, believe me."

Back in his world, there is some so-called _common knowledge _about Priests of the Serpent among the Above-World. One among them was their ungratefulness of having their lives saved.

That is a misunderstanding. Priests of the Serpent are _not_ ungrateful, they even carry the code to return due thanks, but they do not accept being _denied _their rightful death. Necromagi always consider their options before a fight, always using a tactic that is the safest in regards to life-threatening situations, and that commonly entails murder in self-defense, compromise, the use of pragmatic solutions, or commonly the summoning of a skeleton army to repel an attack force while they make a getaway, avoiding useless conflict.

The Order do not fear death and accept its inevitability, but it's not something they _welcome _unless they are truly willing. But when they do, it means they are now satisfied with their work on the Living World and are ready to _go home._ To the Priest of the Serpent, death is just like a farmer returning to the home after a grueling day of work in the fields. And like a proper farmer, they make sure they worked themselves to the bone before ending the day, leaving significant amounts of work and progress done just so the load will be lesser the next day or for the other farmers who will take his place.

Simply put, a Priest will die like any other mortal but they _never _die in vain. They make sure they leave something meaningful before going home, whether to take on an apprentice and pass onto them their knowledge and power; whether to contribute something to the Living Realm, either to the Underground City or to the Above-World; whether to accomplish a murderous task that no one but they could do before their passing or to simply perform an altruistic deed that costs a life, like _saving a life_. The Order aspire for these things, and then they will gladly make their peace with the Dragon.

To be denied the rest they so deserved, not many welcome it with open arms, and he was one of them. To be given another chance of living would be comparable to being forced to work overtime, and few would be able to hold down their despair from lashing out at their 'saviors'. They will only express gratitude if they had something else in mind to accomplish before their death, which is a rare occurrence.

And now, he's in that position: Angered for being forced to work overtime, and holding himself down from lashing out at his savior. Emilia was _worthy _of this mercy, for she had shown him gratitude and trust unlike most others, but still.

The pain of living goes far for a Priest of the Serpent, not just from the treatment they get from Above-Worlders but from reality itself, especially when they had enough. It was a mystery to the Order why the Immortal Queen, Lady Sabarra would wish to suffer an eternity in the Realm of the Living, Even to this day, it is something they have not known the answer to.

"So you will not tell me?" The dear girl asked softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, immaculately-pale white flesh contrasted by the void of the light-eating cloth of the robes under it.

Through that touch, her kindness reached his heart, throwing water over the bitter fires he had held. He reached up and gently held that warm hand with his left, squeezing it, "Your concerns are enough." He lowered that hand to what's left of his lap, rubbing his thumb on her palm before interlocking fingers. He refused to stare back at her, "It's enough. Thank you, _Emilia_."

All that anger, all that pain, so easily quelled by a simple show of kindness, backed by complete trust and genuine concern. It still wasn't enough to rekindle the will to live but it relieved him of a burden that he couldn't stand carrying. If anything, he's a blank slate now.

He's very thankful.

"You're welcome." She squeezed back his hold and placed her other hand of warm flesh atop his own. Even if he wasn't looking, he can feel that shining smile on her face. "But if you are ready, I'll be here, okay?"

"Yes." Had she not been burdened by the idiotic absurdity called 'Politics', he might have taken her as an apprentice. She's gifted, experienced in battle, and her dim line of thinking would actually help her go far in training. The Order never had a mage or a spirit mage in their ranks before, she could have been a worthy first of its time. And as Principle dictates, you look after your apprentice as if they were your child. As of now, he truly _cares _for this girl.

Squeezing that hand, he let go and had Mother secure herself to him once again before he rose to his feet. Stretching his back and sighing afterwards, he stashed his sickle and walked to the entrance of the gazebo, facing the general direction of numerous plant-life.

"Where are you going?"

Clapping along with Mother a rapid rhythm with his own hands, he took a deep breath, and then cupped his flesh hand and bone hand around his mouth.

And then, "**WHOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH‼**"

The deep below echoed far, out into the distance and receiving a return call not just from the wildlife of the living but also from the Dead seconds later. The pattern of assembly along with Mother called for their attention, the necromantic energies in his lungs allowed him to be heard far from those of the Other Side, and he hears the wails from the Souls and Spirits of the Dead. Many emotions merged together in the cacophony of spectral noise, so many bitter Souls, so many grieving Souls, and very little are just wandering around aimlessly. There are some vengeful Souls as well, not that they could do anything so long as they don't have a body.

"_Wow_. For a lanky guy, you sure got a pair of lungs there. Maybe warn us next time? I'd like to be able to hear for as long as I'm contracted to Lia."

"What was that for, Ser Emurdol? I was flabbergasted for a moment there…."

"I'm simply calling the attention of those who will answer my call when I need it." He counted their numbers, squinting slightly against the sunlight shining on the scenery behind them. "Quite many. _So many._" It would be a _very_ long night when dusk comes. Dealing with the dead can be a little overwhelming. So much wisdom, so many viewpoints, and an endless void of madness. Having the obligation to hear them all is so exhausting. It's amazing how his sanity is still intact despite the millions of souls who talked his ear till it bled, sometimes _literally_, even if the Order taught him to strengthen his mental defenses against them.

"Wait. Are you saying people are hiding out there?"

But that's a concern for when the Dragon looks down on him, evening specifically. Right now, maybe he should indulge in some social interactions.

"Well, yes." Shouldn't a person who communicates with Spirits be aware of that? Unless she's thinking about _living _people instead of intangible and volatile entities. "The Spirits of the Dead tend to linger over abandoned or unpopulated places they like, you see. Like the forests outside this property."

"O-oh." She actually thought about living people. "Spirits, right. But why do you need to scream?"

"Because a scream reaches far than a clap." Why didn't the Order consider this in their training? It's not like screaming is a crime. Sure, it might draw attention to you or give away your position, but still….

He turned to the fay, "You wondered how I could manage such a magnitude of noise despite my build, yes?"

"Yeah. I wanna know." Puck fluffed his ears. Emurdol wondered if he got those cat ears ringing after shouting like that. "Is that something your Order has in their arsenal? Loud voices to add up to the scare in your powers?"

Ha! The Order of the Serpent were already feared. To enforce intimidating factors would be rather redundant. "This is something I developed for myself." He chuckled, imagining the faces of the elders if they ever heard about this. "Other necromagi would definitely criticize me for it, for silence is our virtue. You cannot communicate with the Spirits in a loud environment, can you?" He looked pointedly at the nearby spirit mage.

"Yes…" The dear girl nodded in understanding, "But in your case, you speak with the Souls while I speak to the Spirits. Except, I don't have to scream like you do."

He curled his lip, "Hm." Emilia should fix her terminology. In Pandemonium, Spirits and Souls are quite the same. She should differentiate them as Spirits of the Dead and Spirits of Nature, _that's_ a lot more clear and specific.

"Back to the original question. Shouting magnifies the spectral call." He clenched his left fist, making sure they see the bones revealing through the pale skin and emphasizing his lankiness. "I may be gaunt, but I am as strong as a full-grown warrior. This applies to every Priest of the Serpent. Our appearances belies our physical power." He traced a skeleton hand across a single rib of the bone cuirass over his chest. "I may rely on her in regards to physical combat but it does not mean I am helpless on my own, even I can admit that my skill with the knife is above-average among those of the Order."

"So basically, your skelly suit does physical combat while you do the magical combat."

And the fay pretty much summarized the roles between him and Mother in regards to conflict with that. "Sometimes it's the other way around."

"Heh. You're just like us Spirit Mages." Puck remarked with a kitty smile, "That's how we duke it out, y'know? We work as a team."

"Hmm…" Interesting fact. He sat back down to his original spot beside Emilia, stepping over the pile of shaved wood and failed wooden daggers along the way. "Now, do you know how a shout becomes strong?" He asked to the two.

"Hmm…." The dear girl mulled it over. The fay copied the pose of holding the chin as he sat on her shoulder. "By strengthening the throat?"

"Magical amplification?"

All are wrong. Typical for magically-inclined individuals. They honestly should expand their knowledge about the human anatomy like the Order. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone Above-World who _isn't _a mage or noble that has been educated. Stupid caste systems are impeding the intelligence of humans.

He prodded a finger at Emilia's gut, causing her to jolt and giggle slightly, "It's by the strength of your abdomen. The stronger your abdomen, the louder your shout."

"Really?" Puck quickly flew to his stomach, "Put 'em up. Lemme see the packs you're hiding under these robes."

"He-hey! Puck! That's too intrusive!"

Mother quickly lifted up the fay away just so he can unclasp the locks of the robes. Stopping below the chest, he revealed his well-toned abdomen containing a full six-pack. The bottom of his gaunt chest was slightly visible, exposing the revealing ribs from the pale flesh, contradicting the brawny state of his belly.

"Whoa. You do have 'em." Puck remarked, pawing the pale surface of the muscles. "I wonder how your people get by with such bodies, especially when you said you all live deep down in the ground."

"With countless horrendous experiments and many forms of self-surgery as well as maintaining good health, we can develop our physical expertise and stay healthy at the same time despite our lack of sunlight." It's practically the necromagi counterpart of an elite soldier's torturous training. In the Order of the Serpent's case, drinking shit-jars and cutting yourself open without any guidance. "We may dabble with death and decay in a daily basis but we are very careful with our own health. There has not been a single record of a Priest of the Serpent falling to an illness. Not _once._"

Drinking shit-jars is still detestable, no matter how many times he does it inside or outside the Underground City. Self-surgery is a very dangerous endeavor as well. To make sure you do not botch it up and send yourself to a slow and painful death, you read, read, read, read, and _read_. Study as much as you can and eventually you are able to improve your own flesh to a more robust state. _No one _simply lives Underground after all. Every subterranean citizen is a _human_, therefore they suffer nutritional deficiency due to the lack of exposure from the sun.

That's why the Order of the Serpent came to be, to counteract such complications. Thanks to its existence and meticulous efforts, everyone is as healthy as if the sun was present in the caverns and still able to procreate healthy and lively pale-skinned silver-haired babes with beautiful eyes.

"Your people sure are unique, aren't they, Ser Emurdol?" The dear girl asked, the fay back to sitting on her shoulder.

Clasping back the locks on his robes, he replied her, "That's a narrow presumption, Dear Girl." He felt a slight pang of discomfort come over him. He's starting to sound like an elderly man, "_Every_ society is unique, and my own is no different, especially a certain society back in my homeland." A fond smile crossed over his lips, good days and well-earned memories coming back to mind, "The common people call them the Northmen. As the name implies, they originate from the North. Whatever kind of North this country has, my own North created the most physically powerful humans. They are a warrior tribe that lived in the harshest climates, and because of their living conditions and their lifestyles, their bodies are built to be superhuman. It would not be an exaggeration to say that they can match my golems hand to hand. They could even survive a harsh blizzard in their undergarments."

"W-What? Really?" He could see the wonder in those purple orbs, as well as on the pair of blue next to her head.

So childish.

"I have seen such a thing with my own eyes." He thought they were undead when they exploded out of the snow like that, and his surprise was doubled when they were _warm_ as soon as they held him down, thinking he was an intruder after entering their borders. "They are like a mountain of muscle. On extreme cases, they are practically a mountain themselves. They can be as tall as 8 feet, they could crush rocks with their bare hands, they could wield gigantic swords one-handed, they could even jump as far as 20 feet in the air. And despite their size, they are _deceptively _fast." These were the reasons why he respected the Northmen. They were still human, yet they surpassed their original physical limits during their daily life, just like him and his people. "Faster than the field stag. Even their _women_ are capable of such. The things they do to manage such feats is something no average man could survive unless they are born from pureblooded Northmen parents."

"It kinda sounds like Vollachia, you know, even though you said North." Puck muttered.

"Wow…." Yes. That could have been his reaction back then if he wasn't so reserved in speech. "Tell me. What do their women look like? Are they as muscular as the men?"

"Indeed." He nodded. "They share the same principle as the Order of the Serpent. Everyone shares the labor and gender means _nothing_." In fact, the leader of the Bear Clan was a women herself, and she was the _biggest _among all the tribe. It was one of the fewest times he was ever scared of another _human_, especially when they were in the feasting hall together alongside the other mountain men. He never could have survived a fight that day if it hadn't ended well in their negotiations. "In some cases, they are far more boisterous, stronger and more vicious than the men. They tend to succeed their evaluations often. In fact, I participated in one of their simplest evaluations just for fun."

"Oh ho ho." The fay's eyes glinted in interest. "You saying you lifted rocks with the burly men there?"

He gave him a pointed glare, flashing his green eyes for a moment, "Do I strike you as someone who could pull a rock tied to a rope from up a mountain while naked in the snow after pushing it all the way down instead of simply throwing it off the cliff and climbing back up?"

There were 2 pairs of eyes staring at him in shock, "They actually did that?" The dear girl asked. "Did they even manage it?"

He nodded, "That is how brutal it is, _by our standards_, anyway." He had watched the entire thing himself, and he was absolutely amazed that _everyone _pulled it off. It's as if they were pulling a bucket from a well. They weren't human at all, they were _monsters_ of their own right, "If you cannot survive one, you would suffer the ridicule of your own people." His skeleton hand held his abdomen, then his brow furrowed slightly, "The evaluation I took was a test to determine if you can create a battle cry that could be heard for miles. In battle, a resounding war cry will do more than horrify the enemy, it can strengthen your allies and raise their spirits to the fight. Nothing is more formidable than an army with immense willpower and high morale. In some extreme cases, a good shout can break your foe's eardrums."

He earned fascinated 'oohs' from his 2 listeners.

He won't say that his creations were shattered apart because of _so many _roaring Northmen wailing on his constructs like they were nothing, and it isn't because of their fists and weapons. His ears rung that entire time, bled even. It's a wonder how they considered that _play _when he wasn't in the brightest conditions for the next few days after.

"How they test your battle cry is quite simple. While you stand at a certain place, their most common choices the top of a mountain other or an open field, a Northman will be placed somewhere at a certain far distance. If the Northman could hear your battle cry, you pass the test. If they didn't, it means you haven't exercised enough."

"Then how did you fare?"

"How I fared…" Surprising even himself, he held his chin with his skeleton hand, emulating the thinking pose in his disbelief at how casual he is with it. How did interaction with the dear girl enforce such a thing? "…if I can make a comparison in this area, I could only reach as far as the gate." He earned agreeing nods, attesting that their ears were actually _attacked _when he had hollered for some cooperating spirits. "And when I did it, I was nearby the local tribe and every Northman took up arms and stormed to where I was because they thought there was a monster invading the village."

Then he exploded into mirth, an amused smile playing on his lips as the laughter boiled in him, "If it weren't for my friend to come and explain to them the situation, there would have been bodies littering Northland soil….!" He was actually snickering, his teeth wickedly bare. "….I was actually laughing my ass off that day, even as they were swinging their axes and swords at me…!"

Now he was releasing full-blown laughter. As his past company usually tells him, his mirth is always laced with cruelty, as if he was enjoying the suffering he inflicted on someone, even if this was his natural laugh. As that was the case, he doesn't need to look at the dear girl to see if she's being unsettled.

"M-morbid…" She mumbled meekly.

"I'm kinda surprised you're still alive, especially if those guys were superhuman as you say they are." He heard the fay, even as he was still laughing.

Being a practitioner of Emotion Suppression like any other necromagus, he easily cut off his mirth like it was a door. "Yes." He answered simply, relaxing on the seat and releasing a relieved sigh. Looking over the yard, he beheld the number of people he's going to entertain tonight. "_Fascinating…._" He mumbled sarcastically.

He's definitely going to black out at some point. There's just _so many _Souls_._ Even if he's going to acquire some knowledge and information from them instead of wisdom that he's already heard from the Spirits of the Order, it would still wear him down.

"Tch." He sneered at the prospect of it.

"Ser Emurdol?"

He turned to the dear girl, "Hm?"

"I've been hearing it from Ram and Rem…."

His lips immediately flattened into a thin line, already knowing where this is going to lead to.

"…you aren't really getting along with either of them." He could hear slight hesitation in her voice, uncomfortable in the topic, "You're not really friendly around them but they think they're the one at fault, saying that they've been acting impolitely towards you yesterday."

He sighed heavily, glowering into space, "The reason is plain and simple: _They didn't trust me_, and the feelings mutual." Then a wry smile crossed his lips, making light of this particular situation just like many times before. "But this is nothing unusual for a Priest of the Serpent. We were _already_ feared and held suspicious, why should I even _bother_ with earning anyone's trust, much less trust them?"

The hurt on her face was very apparent in his peripheral vision. For some reason, it was an expression that he _couldn't _ignore all these years. He wondered why. "Don't you trust me?"

_Damn it._

He stood up, grabbed her hands to pull her up to his level and, being advantageous in stature, hugged her head slightly above his skeletal chest. Mother followed suit, wrapping her metallic arms around the dear girl gently but tightly. His nose is buried in her silky hair of silver, taking in the flowery scent, "I trust you with my life, Emilia." If anything, he won't resist if she ever plans to take his life. Anyone else and he will retaliate. They don't share the privilege of being the one to grant him his peace with the Dragon. "Besides Mother, you are the safest person I can be with."

"Mother?" Oh dear, he blurted out her name. "B-but why can't you trust the others? Why not give them a chance to warm up to you, that you aren't a bad person despite the way you are?"

He shook his head. This girl's too naïve. There's no such thing as a 'Good Necromagus' or a 'Bad Necromagus'. A Priest of the Serpent simply does what he must, appeasing the restless dead and maintaining the Balance in all things. Not all Above-Worlders agree with the things they do.

"I don't _need_ their trust, Emilia. I don't need Rem's, nor Ram's, nor Lord Mathers. I only need yours and I swear on my worth as a Priest of the Serpent that I will not squander it." He would even say that the sole reason why he even bothered to _stay _in this mansion instead of leaving in the middle of the night was because of her. "A senior Priest once said to me: a friend Above-World is valuable enough to stake your own life to, for it's the only person you can fully trust to not stab you in the back."

Having someone like that is _impossible _to begin with, because being friends with a Priest of the Serpent in the first place is considered suicide and it makes you susceptible to being ostracized, or killed for being 'corrupted'. He was glad to be given an assignment to the Northern Regions, the Bear Clan accepted him despite their prior knowledge of his people. Northmen were known to be well-liked for their fun-loving attitudes despite their roughness and slight antagonism to outsiders. The friend he earned there and traveled with him made his passage across the other regions far more bearable. The large man made the presence of a Necromagus tolerable.

"You're my _friend_." He held back the unpleasant emotions from rushing over him as he admitted that. "You're the only reason why I decided not to hurt anyone despite their treatment of me." He drew back from the embrace but didn't let go, his and Mother's hands still on her person as he stared back at purple eyes, "Don't encourage them to trust me, it will only grant the opposite effect. Allow them to learn from you. If the Ladyship trusts me, then they should to."

That was just wishful thinking. Earning the trust of somebody of the highest status and excluding everybody else's is a very suspicious action. It doesn't sit well in the thought and would warrant a knife to come for his back, but just this once, he's going to let caution out the window. Not all of it, of course. Necromagi never let down their guard unless they are near the Dead, particularly graveyards.

She smiled to him, that brilliant smile. "Okay, I will do that. Oh and Ser Emurdol?"

"Hm?"

"…thank you for calling me your friend."

He knew it. Ostracized and alone at the top, this girl was. Being a candidate to the throne carried burdens. She likely couldn't consider anyone in the mansion her friend meaningfully, only professional relationships as candidate and patron or master and servant. The only meaningful relationship she had is with her contracted Spirit, Puck, who's her _father_.

"If you reciprocate the intention, then likewise." He replied with a genuine smile, he and Mother letting her go and using his skeleton hand to brush a strand of white hair off her face and behind her elven ear.

Surprisingly, she isn't perturbed by it despite its proximity to her face. Instead, she took it in her hand to rub her fingers across the ivory structure, with the fay resting atop his wrist to examine it closely too. "So this is what our hands look like underneath…." She mumbled in fascination. She moved the sleeve of his robe back, showing the arrangement of bones that kept the prosthetic hand locked to his forearm. "Wow…"

"Yeah." Puck nodded, floating around the arrangement and peering at its design. "I had thought you skinned the flesh off but I was wrong. You actually cut it off and replaced it with this."

"Don't say such scary things, Puck." The dear girl chided, "He's still recovering from the loss."

"Are its movements according to your will?" He didn't seem to be listening. "If it is, how is it moving even though it's not connected to your stump?"

"The answer alludes me, but it's irrelevant at this point." He already confirmed that it wasn't Mother. He would be less than happy if it were otherwise. She already took over his legs, that's more than enough. Not that he is ungrateful for her efforts all this time, however. "Since it moves accordingly to my phantom hand, I will have to begin adapting to it instead of questioning its mobility."

"Phantom hand?" The dear girl doesn't know what a phantom hand is?

"Even if you lose a limb, you still carry the sensation as if you still have it." He curled his fingers, careful not to grip on the dear girl's little hands. He might break them by accident. "As I have said earlier, there is no sense of touch, temperature, pain, and pressure-control among other things. It's impractical for the very moment."

"You might need to wear a glove if you're going to meet other people." She suggested.

He was about to shoot that idea down, then reconsidered. While his existence continues to warrant a lot of suspicious looks and distrust, a visible skeleton hand will just make it worse. While it's one thing to remain true to yourself, it's another thing to be practical. Priests of the Serpent are not morons, and pride is _not_ the first of their concerns. "Hm."

"Lady Emilia."  
"Lady Emilia."

3 heads turned to the direction of unified voices, beholding the twin maids at the entrance of the gazebo. "Oh, good morning, Ram, Rem. What's wrong?"

"Breakfast is served. The guest is welcome to join."  
"Breakfast is served. The guest is welcome to join."

"Ah, yes." He felt a tug on his skeleton hand and he saw the dear girl's pale hand holding on to the bony palm with the nonchalance of holding a regular hand. "Come on. Let's eat. You can continue making wooden knives afterwards."

Setting aside his astonishment and the thought of his already-filled stomach, he looked at the yard, regarded the spirits of the dead who were on standby, then thought of the storm viper jar in his room.

Now this is actually a dilemma. Both sounded like interesting things to do, having an audience with the dead and research on how to emulate the claw and fang's electric capabilities. He doesn't have a lot of time to cover both in a single day. "Hm." Wait, didn't Lord Mathers just taught him a new way of circulating mana? Gate and Od…..

"Hm." This is going to be interesting.

"Is something wrong, Ser Emurdol?"

"Not really. It's just that I'm going to be very busy later."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

A small meal and a warm bath afterwards, he locked himself in his borrowed quarters, hard at work and study before his desk. And unexpectedly, he's close to finishing his work. The method this world used is very useful. 5 hours may have passed but he expected to last the entire daytime instead of merely half a day trying to infuse mana in bones without making them break the vessel or simply leak out.

Creating skeleton mages that could manipulate the elemental magic was only possible _because _of the Soul of a mage inside. If it was an artificial soul but from the bones of a mage, it is still possible, especially if it's the other way around. But for an artificial Soul inside artificial bones, there is no foundation for a skeletal magus to exist. There was no factor that allowed it to contain its personal pool of mana. As a Necromagus who can manipulate life force like clay and mana like it was an arm, he sought ways to improvise and bend the fundamental rules.

The flesh of living beings, especially humans, are the most compatible to carry mana compared to bone, even if a little. But creatures called Storm Vipers, snake men with scaled humanoid upper bodies and a reptilian head who guarded the desert temples are built differently. Their bones have the highest potency of mana compared to their own flesh, allowing them to create electric spells without the need of arcane incantation or focused circulation of energies, potentially making them have nigh-infinite pools of mana as their blood is practically flowing with them.

The bones he created do not carry blood, therefore he couldn't replicate their capabilities unless he extracts them straight out of someone's dead body. If he tries to fill those bloodless bones with mana, it would just be stuck there uselessly, serving no purpose. The artificial soul wouldn't know what to do with it, even if given knowledge.

But Lord Mathers gave him very helpful information yesterday. Magicians use the mana within themselves, but Spirit mages use the mana in the environment with the latter as the medium. If he was to think about it carefully, his skeletal mages are _technically _spirit mages **because** of the Spirits of the Dead, including artificial souls inside them.

If _that _was the case….

Copying the structure of the storm viper's bones, together with the concept of Gate and Od infused within the artificial soul's limited knowledge amidst its simple-mindedness, he might be able to create a skeletal mage from _nothing_.

Using the one-armed defect of a skeleton as a model, he applied his research to the test. It meant breaking it apart and rebuilding the construct from scratch, modifying every single blood vessel within its structure to make sure it's capable of processing mana. Once complete, he would breathe life into the frame, granting it the knowledge of this world's mana circulation method at the same time.

Taking a deep breath and shaking his exhausted hands, including his skeleton hand, he nodded at his job well done and proceeded for the final examination. Will it work or is it another failure?

The modified defected skeleton lying on the floor, bearing scars from its recent operation, all of its joints disconnected, including its new right hand, he proceeded with the next step. Infusing his will into the frame, the pieces shook as if held by unsteady hands and with a twist of his hand as well as a clench of a fist, all 360 joints snapped together in place to form the perfect skeleton. Drawing the energies of life together in his hands while ignoring the nearby Souls who wanted to take over instead, he created a simple form of life bearing the most basic intelligence but with an inherent knowledge of this world's magic and passed it into the bones.

As soon as he had finished, its upper body sat upwards like a lever, rising to its feet fluidly without the slightest noise of bones clacking against each other, just like a perfect skeleton and turned towards him, awaiting its orders patiently.

"Let there be light."

A voiceless command escapes his lips and the construct obeyed, and as a testament to his hard work, its skeletal hands glowed white in arching light and heat, electricity rippling across its hand and forearms before the buzzing fell silent, its orders well-executed without delay like the perfect creation of a Necromagus.

Unlike the typical human, he will not hop and hoot in joy. He instead grinned, threatening to split his head in half while his eyes glowed brightly in his sockets at his victorious achievement.

_It works. It bloody works. By the Dragon, **it** **fucking works**! I actually created a skeletal magus from nothing!_

To finalize its perfection, he severed the life force that held its frame together and it spontaneously dismantled itself into a pile of bones before he reduced them into bone dust. Taking another batch from his pack, taking the recycled ones back inside, he recreated the bones, along with its modifications.

The frame complete, he gave it life and watched it rise to its feet. With a snap of his fingers, he said to it, "Light." The simple command rewarded him with the skeleton's straightforward obedience, its hands now coated in burning orange light, the fire energy dancing around its ivory hands before settling into a tiny spark atop the palm containing energy begging to be released.

And as if he was revering the Dragon, he raised his hands up to the ceiling as he glorified the success of his work and applaud it, Mother joining suit as she clapped her metallic hands together on either side of him. She even sent him her compliments in his mind. His elated mood couldn't be anymore brighter as he heard them, especially when she said that _no one _had done this before except Lady Sabarra and very few others.

By the Dragon, he is seriously starting to take after the Revered Immortal Queen of the Serpent, accomplishing _3 _of the magnificent feats she's done while Necromagi are lucky to be off with _one_. Having more than that is _not _supposed to happen! She had _direct _contact with the Dragon while she was still alive and he hasn't! How could _anyone_ compare to the most Beautiful Necromagus in the Underground City!?

"Haaa…." He sighed, holding his forehead. "Then again….I might be the closest comparison to Lady Sabarra in this world now. The City doesn't even _exist_ here."

Staring back at the empty voids of the artificial undead mage, he suddenly felt like he should keep this construct alive for now instead of pocketing it for later, see if it's going to do something interesting outside his knowledge just like the defect did.

"Let's see how useful you get." With that audible command, he left his quarters to his new creation's watch and headed back to the gazebo. Time to have a long chat with the Souls of the Dead.

He'll see what's worth the gossip around this mansion…

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The night was silent, unnaturally so. The lack of noises indicated that, especially the lack of wind. There were no insects. There were no night animal calls. It seemed as if reality itself held its breath at the spectacle happening in the yard of the mansion. This change had carried on even when it was midday where Emurdol began speaking with the Dead, deafening all natural noise into static as the Souls congregated around him like a dependable authority figure, allowing the atmosphere of the Spirit Realm to takeover momentarily so long as he is calling for their attention.

Despite him being out of sight from the top floor window of the Mansion Master's private study thanks to the gazebo's roof, most of his light-eating robes as well as his artificial legs are still seen from above, still in the same place since he arrived. As far as Ram knows, he's been motionless like a statue for a whole of 7 hours, dull green eyes staring into space while his mouth moved incomprehensibly, unresponsive to the reality around him even as the pile of wood shavings and crude training knives at his feet began floating in a spiral around him.

It was either an interesting sight, or an unsettling one. Emilia had once commented that she kept hearing ghostly voices in her head after watching him for a short period of time before she went to bed, sending the guest a silent bid of goodnight. Ram could concur to the oddity, she was sure she had seen dark figures standing around his seated form on her peripheral vision even though she saw nothing when she directly faced them.

"Soooo, Ram, what do you think of him?"

She and Roswaal were together in their usual tryst, but this time they had the presence of their guest as their current discussion.

"If Ram were to regard him as a guest…he's acting according to his privileges. He was given leeway to treat the mansion as if it were his own, so he did. He was given the permission to use me and Rem as he sees fit, so he did. His behavior has been nothing ill-mannered until his personal issues are addressed directly."

A wry smile crossed the lord's lips, "_Yeeees_, he does seem like a man with his own problems to deal with."

A man conflicted with them enough that he reacts violently at anyone who prodded upon it, as what Rem could attest to. The thought of her little sister's life playing with death when she presses the guest's buttons worried her.

Roswaal noticed the shift on her face. "Such a face you're wearing, Ram. Is he _reeeaally_ a troublesome guest?"

Her pink eyes widened momentarily before her beautiful face became neutral, pressing herself further into his chest. "It would not be a lie to say he is troublesome, but it's not without reason. He reacts negatively to anyone being suspicious of him. Rem and I were able to learn that firsthand. It's highly possible that he suffers such treatment commonly before, thanks to his apparel and personality."

"Okay." Roswaal stroked her head lovingly, "Do _yoooou_ think he's involved with the other camps, perchance? Or perhaps, as spy from other nations, Gusteko, in particular….?"

It was the most pressing question they both had in their minds. Ram closed her eyes, processing what she had learned from the pale man and forming a proper conclusion from them. When she had given it proper thought, she answered her master, "Despite his behavior, as well as the numerous factors about him that indicate malign impressions from him, I don't think it's possible."

"Hmm?"

"He's too…._expressive_ with his hostility. His behavior and mannerisms were already questionable, and he doesn't attempt to hide them. He's even presented how much of a threat he was the first time he ate in the dining room alongside everyone." Even if it was an illusion, she couldn't get that legless Shade monster off her mind. Every word he said was full of sincerity, swearing to act accordingly to them the sooner he was given the prompt to do so. A prompt that only anyone in this mansion was capable of giving, "The only person he interacts amiably to more than anyone is Lady Emilia, all because she treated him kindly, without any suspicion or question of his character or motives."

"So in other words, he's a bystander caught in the middle of our circumstances." Roswaal was quick to understand her point and paraphrased it. He twisted his chair around to face the large window that allowed moonlight to shine through, "I personally examined him myself _duuuuring_ our moments of interaction. I _muuust_ say, he's truly a man without fear. His _aaaaudacity_ as a youth astounds me, it's something I no longer possess."

"If Ram were to say something in addition about him, he seems to be deeply affected by his circumstances. His behavior after the loss of his hand could attest to that."

They looked down on the man in question, his light-eating robes seemingly making him appear like a vantablack smudge amidst the scenery of a painting, still motionless underneath the gazebo's roof. The oddities were still happening, dark figures or apparitions surrounding his position were found in their peripherals. Whether Roswaal noticed it or not, he made no comment about it.

"It seems he is a man with a _shaaaaaky_ foundation of trust despite his transparency." If you were a man carrying morbid motifs around your person without any regard for the thoughts of others because it's part of your culture, you would be subjected to the mistrust of others, therefore engendering your own lack of trust in others. Emurdol Viandegroc is a potentially volatile man. One wrong move and he might explode, like a spark to a gunpowder barrel. It had the potential to affect his relationship with the candidate to the throne, Emilia. "He is someone we _muuuust_ handle with great care. See to it that Rem doesn't get ahead of herself, above all else. We _cannot _afford to earn his ire. My ambitions _needs _him."

That's something Ram will do even if she wasn't told to do so. Her little sister had already initiated certain things that nearly ended horribly, and it was by miracle that it was left off with harsh words.

"It shall be done, Lord Roswaal."

She personally questioned just how deeply the Necromancer is going to be involved in their affairs according to the Gospel's writ, but it's not like she has any leeway of knowing any of that, anyway.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

3 hours remain before midnight arrives and Emurdol's consciousness finally caved in, his modified endurance unable to persevere any further to the stress it suffered from the voices of the passing. No longer able to respond or listen to their inquiries, the Souls of the Dead and Spirits of Nature departed. Mother's frame held him up even as his head hung, his silver hair swaying against the breeze that came back.

As the evening began to regain its natural form of life, the noises of insects and nocturnal creatures filling the moonlit night, the wand in his belt began to glow. At first a dim glow, then the skull slowly gained brightness, brilliant enough to coat the interior of the gazebo and the surroundings around him in ghostly illuminations of green.

As a couple of minutes pass, the extra hands that were Mother's source of interaction to the physical world slacked, as if the occupant in them was gone. In turn, his eyes shot open. Only this time, the green orbs took on a different impression of identity as they glowed amidst the shadow on his face. Nose flaring as he took a whiff of his own person, his brow creased just slightly amidst the stoic visage. Examining his skeleton hand, twisting and testing its mobility, as if realizing its existence for the first time, he quickly dismissed it and stood up shakily, the artificial legs bending impossibly to the side before they adjusted properly in place.

"You really have to look for _her_, Mama?" He muttered, an entirely different diction and inflexion coming out of his mouth, nothing like Emurdol's speech. "I guess I'll roam around if you are so insistent on hunting _Envy_ down."

All of his 4 extra arms remaining slack and hung behind him, clacking loudly as they collided against his form or each other, he treaded towards the mansion in slightly unsteady steps, almost akin to a shambling zombie as his upper body kept leaning to one side and his black sabatons scraped across the grass and eventually the stone path. Announcing his presence with every footstep, he reached the doors and entered the hallway.

There was no destination in mind. Even if the guest quarters were found on the first level of the building, he made no attempt to head there. He continued to shamble aimlessly along the hallways, staring at nothing while his movements made noise in every step.

Then he felt a pair of eyes land on him.

"Hmm…." Green orbs shined cautiously in the blue-lit darkness.

Allowing half a minute to pass, he took one last step before stopping in place, his extra arms swaying in the ongoing momentum and smacking loudly against himself or each other before falling silent. His upper body was slouched forward, his original arms hanging slack alongside the metallic ones. When the silence fell, the pressure of unease filling the atmosphere, he let a small growl from his lips.

As he turned around, a stumbling motion as his leaning upper body nearly made him topple to the floor as well as making enough noise to wake those who were sleeping near his distance, he _stared back _at the pair of blue orbs that glared at him with the utmost suspicion from the shadows.

He saw the owner of those eyes hidden in shadows stiffen and retreat into a corner, only to peek again cautiously and widen in surprise as _she _was being _directly _stared at.

He held himself like that and maintained a frozen stance, like a statue. In the hallway lit with moonlight through the windows, only his green eyes that pierced through darkness and into the perception of those nearby indicated his presence. He will not attempt to approach nor verbally address the person at the other end of his stare, he opted to be patient. Whether she leaves or comes close, he's fine with either.

The situation remained that way for as long as it could allow, a staring contest that waited for the other to make a move, the air so tense it could be cut and both sides emanated hostility with varying levels of inclination to attack.

And finally, _Rem _finally decided to step out of the corner and into the hallway, uncertainly walking towards him with a light-stone lamp in hand.

He's only half-surprised for the girl's courage. It takes precedence for someone to have guts before approaching a Priest of the Serpent, even if for non-hostile reasons. If this maid allows this confrontation to be civil, maybe the suspicions can finally—

Green eyes instantly became wide and bloodshot, his form collapsing to its knees before toppling to his side, the legs bending in unnatural angles thanks to his weight. At the same time, his mouth exploded into a cough, hacking out copious amounts of blood from his lips, staining the well-polished floors. His left hand crumpling at his bone chest due to the briefest moments of _torture _he was ever capable of experiencing, he continued to hack out the sustenance of his body's life force out into the floors, nearly losing his consciousness as he was incapable of taking even a single inhale of oxygen.

When the blood stopped surging out of his mouth and his other senses were able to send the newly received information to his brain, he acknowledged the new developments:

The smell of Taint—the Scent of the Witch had intensified in its repugnance around his person. And amidst the horrid scent, came the sound that echoed throughout the halls like the chilling whispers of the Vengeful Spirits that despised even Necromagi….

_The sound of chains._

Hostility clouded his eyes, his form stiffening in preparation of the confrontation that was thought to be unseen in its inevitability, and his original arms slacked, switching control to the 4 metallic arms as his head hung once again, eyes closed before his legs suddenly lifted himself up without any more stumbling.

An iron ball of spikes came flying towards his position from the darkness ahead of him. In response, he smoothly leaned to the side, the murderous weapon passing by him harmlessly before brushing clawed digits across the streaking chains, sparks flying from the contact.

That small action was enough to freeze the movements of the assailant from the other end due to a very murderous curse that enforced the illusion of rigor mortis and the loss of all 5 senses. If a weapon had the mark of its owner, whether well-polished due to regular maintenance or nicked from its past battles with its owner, he doesn't need to touch the wielder directly.

As the flail crashed into the ground behind him, he was right at his attacker's face in a single instant, the powerful structure of his artificial legs granting him the greatest of speeds and he grabbed the frozen opponent's arms and forced them to the side without resistance, a curse of weakening coercing the weapon in hand to slacken and fall.

His hung head suddenly snapped upwards, blazing green eyes opening up and glaring at dull unseeing blue. With a snap of boney fingers, the curse was gone and he quickly enclosed the thin throat of the assailant with his skeleton hand and flesh hand.

"Kkkk…..kk….!" Whatever Rem had to say, the firm grip on her neck will never allow her to let them out except listen. With her arms forced to the side and her body suddenly feeling heavy and lethargic, she couldn't do anything. She's ultimately _helpless _before the might of a Necromagus.

Staring down into the mixture of fear and defiance in the maid's eyes, the foreign diction made itself known once again from his lips, "He has been merciful to you, therefore I shall be merciful and stop Mama from taking your life despite this indiscretion." Then the grip on her throat tightened even further, immediately cutting off her oxygen supply. Her arms struggled, hoping to remove the constraints on her neck with her hands but the metal appendages constricting them denied her any freedom of defiance. Tears welled up in her eyes, whatever words she forced out came off as nothing but chokes and her pupils were slowly rolling to the top of her skull.

Instead of hearing them from the ear, she instead heard the next words echoing in her head. It was a monstrous sound laced with nothing but unimaginable horrors. **"Repeat this offense, however….If you ever make another attempt on Brother's life…"** The foreign diction became cold and heavy, unadulterated malice lacing the words confirming the full intent of fullfilling the threat that came out, **"…._then I will ensure that you will_ _never see your beloved sister again_."**

The mention of her dearly beloved flesh and blood's name and the threat that hung over Ram's life was enough to infuse the Maid with newfound strength born from the fury coursing through her system. Her demonic origins came to life, infusing her body with infeasible physical power, allowing her to successfully fight back against the restraints holding her arms and constricting her neck.

Such a wondrous display of rejuvenation didn't have the chance to fully flourish. The glowing horn that sprouted from Rem's forehead to counteract the hazardous situation was immediately snuffed out, punished by the unused right metal hand built with studded knuckles that slugged it as soon as it appeared and immediately sending Rem into unconsciousness, leaving her petite form slack as it hung from the metallic hands that held her wrists.

The Spirits earlier were very kind to warn both him and Mother of the twin maids' demon origins as well as the means to easily neutralize them without any lethal force.

"I wonder how will he react to the both of you now that he knows you and your sister are the same hellspawn he's been slaughtering since meeting the Above-World…" He said in a breathless voice, completely silent and only the Souls who were the spectators of this spectacle could hear him. "….oh well. If he kills you, that would only be your fault. Mistreatment begets mistreatment. Distrust begets distrust. And violence begets _death_."

The maid should be _very _glad that Mother _is _not taking her head for attacking Emurdol. The only reason she didn't is because she's being held back out of the consideration for her son's goodwill.

One thing is a constant, whether here or Pandemonium: making an attempt on the life of a Priest of the Serpent will be like walking into a mousetrap made out of bones, and _no one _leaves without a scratch, successful or not. You will carry a mark of your actions for the rest of your life.

To wit…

With a skeletal hand that brimmed with dark energy, the mischievous and vengeful Spirits eagerly awaited their prompt to do as they please with the servant as he gave them the chance to play. With an intoning voice that reverberated in the silent hallway, and brimming with mockery. So much like Emurdol, "Venture through your worst nightmares, _Dear Maid_."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

What the fuck happened, Mama!? Envy's hands of shadow suddenly grabbed Brother's heart! The taint is even worse than before too! What did you do when you were hunting her!?

**…..**

_What _did you do? Just what the fuck did you just do when you were gone!? If I wasn't there, Brother's head would have been smashed like a pumpkin from that giant flail!

It doesn't matter that you hurried back as soon as you heard the chains, you _nearly _got him killed, _again_! You _always _do this, Mama! You always do! You do something in the justification that it's for him, you ended up making things worse for him than it already had! Have you ever actually realized that!?

**…...**

Oh wait, how could I possibly forget!? You _don't_! You _never _do! Even though you _saw _how he suffered even more because of your fucking _independence_ many times already, you _still _haven't LEARNED! I thought you had! You were docile for the last couple of months but no! That was just his orders holding you back! Didn't you _care _about him!? Making him suffer even more is NOT caring! UGH! Just what the fuck was I expecting from somebody that hasn't any self-control anyway!?

**….!**

No! NO! NO! DO NOT EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT IT! If you wish to know WHY I am intervening _now_ when I never had in Pandemonium, it's because Brother was still a _MORTAL_!

**…..**

…...

…...times are different now, Mama. He's not mortal anymore, and it's no longer going to be just him that's holding your reins. It's going to include me from now on. Do not even think about stopping me. You're love for him is _poisonous,_ and I'm going to make sure he doesn't suffer because of it.

**….**

I'm not trying to stop you from protecting him, I want you to understand that. I am going to fulfill the role of stopping you before you make a fucking mistake in the nearest possible future like you had before. You've been trapped in your bones since he left the City, you never empathized him properly like I had. You did not venture through the lifetime he went through as I had when he killed me. I know how he thinks, down to the last subconscious thought. You _don't._

**…...**

Well?

**…...**

What did you find when you were hunting Envy?

**….Envy….Satella….separate, not as one.**

…_what_?

**Confront-ed she…..spoken she…claim-ed not two as one but one alone.**

Satella….and Envy….are _not…._the same person….!?

**Is…..and is not…Witch Factor rejects Satella…..creates Envy….**

…...

**Loves my son she…disgusting love….loving love…Mother knows not which owns which…..**

**….loves him she….loves loving him she…..caught him…..curse-ed him…brought him to this place she did…**

**….at odds with Satella she….at odds with Envy she…**

…

**…silences him…..spoken curse begets silence…..Satella told Mother…..Envy is cross with Mother...punishes Mother by punishing son…..**

…

**…..Mother knows nothing_….lost…_**

…..

…...

…...

Take me to her, I'm bringing the others with me.

We'll see what we can wring out of this…._Duality…_

* * *

**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**


	7. Three Poems

Skeletons; Hulking abominations of earth, flesh, metal, stone and fire; Clouds of noxious air; Screams of both living and dead; Burning trees coming to life, bodies of once-living men and women impaled in its scorching branches; Apparitions of wrath and bitterness rampaging across everything; The children easily possessed because of their weak minds, forced to take the lives of their loved ones; The adults forced to watch as their bodies were mutilated by their son or daughter, some falling into deep despair as they are forced to kill the little ones out of self-defense; The elder subjected to torture, forced to unlife as zombies as every erratic movement made destroyed their bodies even further, devouring every living organism they saw as if it was a craving.

Destruction was everywhere. Hell in all directions. Suffering ran at every part in front of her. The Village of Earlham was ravaged by a Nightmare coming to life. Where she looked, a life was mercilessly snuffed out followed by more, cruel wounds and screams before the flicker of life was extinguished from the victims. Any attempt of escape only led to failure, in the hands of mechanical monstrosities that caged the eradication in a circle, butchering any who would dare flee.

There was no sympathy. There was no purpose. There wasn't even any reason for all of it to happen. It's just slaughter for slaughter's sake. Murder and brutality enacted as if it were a natural thing to do when seeing a large populace.

The Man, the monster who had done this, simply stood in the middle of everything. He didn't give the slightest glance of what he did, firmly planting his attention _solely _on her, as if he was testing her reactions to his handiwork. She could have been flying into a murderous rage for the things he's done, throwing all her hatred at him with all her might, tearing his multiple arms off, smashing his pale head against the soil with the force of all her demonic power, or even rip out every bone in his body and keeping him alive for as long as she can with her healing magic until she was satisfied….

….but she couldn't. Because of her failing to act the sooner she noticed the scent of the Witch on him, she had woken up to the consequences of her inaction while she was unconscious.

Lord Roswaal was eviscerated, nothing more than an addition to the hungry dead. Her Dear Sister was eaten alive, the master of the mansion feasting on her insides. Lady Beatrice was nailed to the wall with bones piercing her palms, still alive as she wept and cried in pain inside the Forbidden Archives, dying a slow and excruciating death. Lady Emilia was killed in her sleep, poisoned, the only one with the most merciful death compared to everyone else.

She lost _everyone _and _everything_. Even if she retaliated, she had no guarantees of survival. Even if she had survived, there was literally _nothing _for her in the aftermath. There's no home anymore. There's no family anymore. There's no _reason _anymore. She was already dead inside as she knelt on the soil, staring unblinkingly at him as he walked up to her and gently wrapped his hands around her neck once again. Even as he hefted her up, her feet dangling above the ground, she made no move to resist. She was already dead. He's only going to validate that to its fullest form, and she awaited it eagerly. At least in death, she would be together with her Dearest Sister once again.

Then….

"Tell me, Dear Maid….have you realized yet that you're already part of the living dead?"

There was processing, deciphering, then her mind slowly froze to a stop as she slowly acknowledged the meaning behind those words.

"The afterlife has been closed off to you." His voice has been low and gravely, the same inflexion used every time whenever in a neutral state of mind. It meant that what he's done and currently doing was _nothing interesting _to him. "You will _never _die, Dear Maid. You will not join your loved ones in death. _No_, I will _not _allow it. Instead, you will continue to exist, as a _mistake_—an _insult _to existence itself."

The grip around her throat suddenly tightened, creating the unmistakable sound of her neck bone _snapping_. She felt the break itself inside her nape. She even felt her windpipe ultimately disfiguring itself under the pressure. Her oxygen was long gone before he had a hold of her—

—yet, why was she still alive?

"_Enjoy living forever as a _**_living _**_head for the rest of your unlife_."

His face never twitched the slightest, not even a blink of his eyes as the flesh of her neck became thinner and thinner under his grip, blood spurting out of the gaps of his fingers and the broken openings of the tissue.

Within her mind, she could only scream in a throat that lost all power to do its intended purpose. Neck broken, her entire body is completely paralyzed. She could do nothing to stop him from forcing her into a fate worse than death. For the very first time ever since that fiery night, she was truly hel—

"Rem! Rem! Wake up! Stop it…! Rem!"

After grueling seconds of forcing her little sister's hands off her own neck, the tear-soaked eyes of blue that was overloaded to the brim with primal _fear _revealed itself to Ram's concerned eyes, accompanied by a terrified scream that was heard all over the mansion.

And it didn't stop from there. Rem continued to scream hysterically, trembling violently and clawing at her own head. The magnitude of her shrieks was nigh-deafening, the vibrations even felt from the floor besides her own body, and her legs kicked and writhed furiously, as if feeling the surface of the floor with all her might. The horn even revealed itself on her forehead, sucking in mana greedily and increasing her physical power, causing a minor quake with her violent writhing.

Knowing the quick solution, she bit down on the glowing white protrusion and stimulated it with her tongue.

Same as before, the effect was instantaneous. The horn is particularly sensitive, and it immediately incapacitated the little sister.

Déjà vu. It reminded her of their time inside the Mathers Manor for the first time when they were on uneasy terms with Roswaal and Frederica at the time.

Releasing a relieved sigh, Ram adjusted her legs beneath her into a kneel and enclosed her precious little sister into her arms, tenderly burying her face to her breast. Rem trembled in her hold, and her face scrunched up while the tears continually leaked out the edge of her eyes. Night terrors, most likely. She soothingly and gently stroked her blue-haired head, whispering sweet words that befitted her role in Rem's life. As a big sister. "It's alright, Rem. It's just a dream. Don't worry. I'm here. Sshh-sshh-sshh….."

She maintained her place just like that, stroking her head and whispering warm assurance, hiding her rattled composure with a sisterly smile and providing as much security as she could to Rem with her mere presence, just as she did before. All her power was devoted solely to comforting her precious little sister. Due to that single-minded focus, she failed to acknowledge Emilia or even Roswaal who came to investigate the unpleasant ruckus at the bottom of the ground floor stairs. Witnessing the sight, they knew better than to disturb.

"Don't worry, your Big _Sis_will protect you."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He can smell the morning sun. He can smell grass. He can smell the moisture of midnight's cool being dried away. He can smell his own sweat beginning to form on his skin despite the morning cold in the early hours. He can smell a flowery scent, two that contained the scent of salt, and one that comprised primarily of cosmetics.

Above all those scents he could detect thanks to the finely-tuned sense of smell all those living in the Underground City were born with, the smell of **Taint **overpowered it all. It has gotten stronger than yesterday, as if he had dumped himself in an ocean of its source, whatever it may be.

But as yesterday had attested to, it's not _just_ taint. It's the Scent of the Witch, this world's Embodiment of All Evil. All the suffering this world has gone through because of her, _Satella_, the Witch of Envy and the horrible thing she's done through a catastrophe that ate half the world….

….he found it strange that such an incident wasn't similar to what Pandemonium suffered in the hands of Supreme Corruptions of Sin. Instead of the world suffering a catastrophe, it was slowly rotting off from their influence. This Satella was defeated by a Hero, a Sage and the Dragon of Lugunica….in his world, it was slightly similar….he was involved in its—

A violent throb of pain erupted in his head.

He growled…..By the Dragon, he needs more quiet time to properly process the information he just learned yesterday, and he just woke up too. Learning something and letting it sink in to acknowledgement are two different things. His head's crammed with too much knowledge, _demanding _to be known to memory amongst the ones he learned in his sleep and time spent not doing so is giving him momentary lapses of head pains. Its severity was enough to make his nose bleed….

He honestly should retreat to his room. Skip breakfast, bath, study, experimentation—every indulgence he's known to be available in this mansion, he's going to sacrifice them for the sake of rest. A moment to properly rearrange the mess in his head like organizing books in a library into separate categories, filtering relevant information from the trivial ones.

But first….

Wiping bleeding his nose with his left thumb, his eyes still covered by a single pair of Mother's arms while the other maintained his head in an upright position throughout the night while he slept in his seat, he called out in a groggy voice to those who were _nearby_, "If you got questions, spare it for later….my mind….is not in the greatest condition for the moment."

….he's not foolish enough to _not _identify the scent of salt, cosmetics and flowers as part of the environment. He had classified all the members of the mansion not just by appearance and mana signature but also by scent, singling the most prominent detail to mark the owner. The dear girl consisted of flowers. The Dear Maid carried the salty scent of sweat, with a slight tinge of lavender. The Fair Maid carried lavender as well, but the smell of tea stood out more. The little archmage obviously smelled of leather and paper, books. The dandy himself reeked of cosmetics and ironed clothes, so easy to separate in a crowd.

He questioned why the 2 lavenders reeked primarily of salt today, however.

Nearly the majority of the Mansion's residents were nearby for whatever reason. It was enough to be a cause of concern, as this usually meant that something bad has happened in the mansion and he's picked as the likely suspect just like the many times it happened before, but he didn't spare himself any caution and instead told Mother to carry him to his quarters.

"Wait." Someone told. He wasn't sure who it was but it was a firm command.

He obviously wouldn't comply with such a demand. How could he answer anybody normally while his head's throbbing like crazy? Tightening his closed eyes, he reached up to cover them with his own hands to block the morning light just as Mother's own moved away and tipped his body over, 6 limbs preventing his back from landing against the floors and making him parallel to the ground as Mother carried him to the doors of the mansion with the grace of a 6-legged spider.

He didn't count the minutes that passed before his body was placed on hard carpeted floors. He's likely in his borrowed quarters by now. And in the same fashion as always, Mother removed herself from him and left him lying down on his side without any extra arms or functioning legs, clutching his aching head and curling his body while the information continued to violate his consciousness. The metal hands stroking his head and rubbing his back are the only comforts he could find amidst mental torture, hard and cold, devoid of any warmth, but comfort nonetheless.

For the next dozens of minutes, nothing coherent came out of his mouth, only soft growls and low moans. Movement was only limited to writhing and twisting aside from massaging his head. If he wasn't sure that his nose have bled a puddle beneath his head, the wet sensation on his cheek sufficed as the answer. There was just so much information being force-fed to his brain. Even if he could suffer an audience of a million spirits speaking to him and retain his sanity in the aftermath, he's still human. And humans could only take so much.

Even with his nose bleeding, he couldn't mistake the flowery scent nearby. It's easy to know what's going on without looking. The dear girl was likely worried upon seeing his current state at the gazebo, following after him, entering his room and offering to help but Mother stopped her before she could. He mustn't receive help while doing this, it would only block his brain from absorbing the knowledge he asked for. There's a price when you want something from dead men, and Priests of the Serpent are wealthy enough to pay it. Above-Worlders are so arrogant to think they are rich enough to do the same, no wonder they lose their minds too often, get possessed or simply suffer something even more horrible, like getting their bodies violently twisted like paper.

It likely took more than half an hour before the pain was starting to dull and his nose stopped bleeding a few minutes earlier. He still hasn't taken in all the information but they are all trivialities at this point. The important parts were absorbed, and among the ones that stood out….

"Ah, did the headache stop?" Emilia asked, kneeling on the floor above his head.

…the dear girl looks _exactly _like the devil of this world. Violet eyes, silver hair, and a half-elf. Because of that resemblance, she was subjected to the prejudice, hatred, ostracism and rejection of the public. No one wanted anything to do with her. Not only that, she's parentless….and she's _guilty_ of a crime. Freezing an entire forest along with the elves that live in it because of her uncontrollable power. Her candidacy in the race for the Seat of Power was a means to rectify that event, to get herself access to the blood of the Holy Dragon that could thaw the eternally frozen elves. It was to _rescue_ them. Selfish, but kind, either way.

He can only wonder how much guilt is secretly hidden in her heart.

About what Lord Mathers said about getting along with her very well…now he understands why. She's actually in the _same_ position as him….except…a little different. Priests of the Serpent were not liked for their actions, Emilia's not liked just for _resembling _somebody who's done a lot worse.

Wait…her hand's on his head.

"What did you aim to achieve with your hand touching my hair?" He asked with a smirk, making no move to shake the contact off. "Were you attempting to absorb my features such as my green eyes to yourself by sheer physical contact? Sorry to disappoint you but that's not how the process works."

It got her to giggle, "….well…" She seemed sheepish, "…I wanted to help and see if my healing magic could help you but she stopped me." She gestured to Mother, who knelt beside his lying form the whole time. "I tried to insist but she was reeeaally adamant about not letting me so…." She ruffled his head, "…this is all I can do….was that not okay?"

He snickered as he looked away, "Your efforts are appreciated." Mother then pulled him up into a seated position, leaning against her skeletal chest while one set of arms hugged around the shoulders and a third hand stroking his disarrayed white locks. He wiped his bloody nose with his robes, the bloodstain nonexistent on the light-eating fabric. "The pain is bearable now. It might take a couple more minutes before it disappears completely...ow…" He wiped his face, only to stop as he felt the wetness on his cheeks. Ah, yes. He bled a puddle and mashed his cheek to it. Looking at the floor, he actually _did _bleed a puddle.

_Goodness_.

"Here." Emilia passed him a white handkerchief.

"Gracious but no need. I can do this instead." He nodded in thanks before bringing his hand up to his face and made a claw gesture, the bloodstain on his face and the puddle on the floors floating off their respective surfaces and morphing into a round ball of crimson above his palm.

_Blood magic_. An uncommonly-used technique of the Order of the Serpent that mainly earned its use as a way to prevent bleeding. Even though he can't do the same, it's possible for other Necromagi to steal the lifeblood and the life force of others, regenerating or empowering their own, but these days, no one does such a thing anymore. They would rather risk death in conflict and _hasten_ their departure to the Afterlife.

"Ew…." He wondered though: how could such a girl, subjected to the same hell as him, grow up to be such a kind Soul?

_[That's just how she is. She was already a wonderful person at heart and Hell forged her into someone even more beautiful.]_

His clawing fingers twitched, his expressions completely tame but he was actually surprised at the sudden voice quipping inside his head when he wasn't calling for an audience to the Dead yet. Tapping into his senses for a second and finding no third entity, he replied to that voice mentally. _[Puck?]_

_[That's me! I'm kinda surprised you're taking this quite well.]_

He mentally rolled his eyes but he couldn't hold back the sigh coming out of his lips, _[I speak to the Spirits of the Dead _**_everyday_**_. They speak to me just like this. Do you _actually_ think something like _this _is enough to catch me off-guard?]_

_An awkward tone laced the fay's voice, [Ehehe. Must'a slipped my mind.]_

_[Get out of my head and converse with me properly.]_

_[Okaaay.] _Then the cat spirit presents himself out of the girl's nape and waving a little paw at him, "Good morning, Emurdol. Nice weather today, yeah?"

"It is _not_." He denied, scowling before holding out the floating blood ball in front of the fay, which the latter got the hint and froze it solid, landing atop his hand in a smack. Throwing it into the Void for safekeeping, he continued, "This 'Nice Weather' is the primary reason why I had to leave the gazebo and abandon my sleep."

"You were actually _sleeping_ there the whole night?" There was genuine astonishment in the fay's voice. "I thought Lia was only kidding."

"I thought I was too! But Ser Emurdol, you could get a cold!" The dear girl told in concern.

He shook his head, exasperated. The girl _really _doesn't remember much, does she? "I _cannot_ be affected by natural illnesses, Your _Ladyship_." It's unlikely at this point that Emilia won't remember what he says unless he refers to himself instead of referring to the Order of the Serpent as a whole in regards to their feats. "I am not like you Above-Worlders, so fragile that a mere brush with cold climates sends you to the disease. If yesterday's evening was cold, I haven't noticed."

"But why didn't you simply come inside and sleep in your bed?"

"Because I lost consciousness at some point." He reached up to press two skeletal fingers against his temple, still feeling the dull headache. "There were so many Souls, you see. I've been asking all sorts of questions to them. I ask one and _everyone _barrages me with their answers. Even for me, their chatters wears my mind."

"But you started during midday…" It seems the facts caught the dear girl in disbelief. Could it be that despite her status as a Spirit Mage, she cannot maintain long conversations with the Spirits of Nature? "…and you were still communicating with them by the time I went to bed…..I'm surprised you lasted that long. I wouldn't be able to last 4 hours if I could help it. Entertaining so many voices at once…."

"What've you've been asking them, hmm?" Puck asked.

He pondered over his response carefully before he answered, "All sorts of questions. What upbringing did this kingdom have? What circumstances surround the Manor? What was its history before? What was the lay of the land? Is there any villages nearby?" He looked at his skeleton hand, rubbing his thumb and fingers together as he smiled lightly, "Among others, I have realized that I may be illiterate."

"Eh?" The dear girl is positively bewildered, "B-but how? How could you not learn how to read and write despite your age?"

This might get a little complicated. He fiddled with a single lock of hair before explaining, "I did not mean that in the general sense but…your written language is unlike mine. And even then, the personal written language of the Order of the Serpent is unique as well. We've learned to read and write in Common written language as part of our preparation before heading out Above-World, and I was baffled to find out that _this_ country has its own set of unique alphabets."

"You mean you haven't prepared yourself before coming to this country?"

"I thought you're the kind of guy that prepares for something before doing it."

Now that's the most dangerous question there. The dear girl still thinks he's from another country as opposed to being from another world. Luckily, he had already prepared to answer that question with honesty while not giving away the full context of his words. "Truth be told, you two, I was…_forced _here. If I could have prepared myself before coming here, I might have done so."

"Forced?" The worry was starting to grow on the dear girl's face. "H-how?"

The fourth arm joined the ones wrapped around his neck before a metallic hand began patting his head. He can feel Mother's concern through that. Even she couldn't explain what happened to the both of them that day. "It is hard to explain…." He frowned, trying to think up possible theories but instead found no easy ground to start. "….I was simply heading home through the forest….then the land suddenly became quiet, a….a foul stench erupted around me, I wasn't certain of its source….but after a single eye blink…it was no longer evening and I found myself standing in the Capital's center." He curled his lip, his bone hand clenched into a fist tight enough to make crackling noises.

And for a brief moment, wickedness and malice burned from his face, complete with a sneer that nearly bordered into a sadistic smile. It was the visage that made every assassin or mercenary going after a Priest of the Serpent like him reconsider their intents.

He's going to find the one responsible for his being here, and when he does….there will be blood…so much blood.

"Emurdol, calm down. You're gonna scare my daughter here, you know."

Ah yes, the fay could read minds. His killing intent might have been noticed. With a slight moment of focus, the raging emotions were immediately shut down. Emotion Suppression.

"Good boy."

Ignoring the condescending tone used on him, he decided to conclude the talk with the last detail. "Returning to the set of questions I've asked to the souls, I have also learned about the circumstances surrounding you…" He turned to Emilia, looking at her straight in the eyes, "….Dear Girl."

"Circumstances? Wh-what do you mean, Ser Emurdol?" She asks that, yet he can tell that she knows exactly what she's talking about.

He reached over, placing a hand to the back of her head and gently pulled her close till his forehead bumped against hers. Instead of blushing over the close-contact, she only had a confused look, "S-Ser Emurdol? What are you doing?"

He closed his eyes, his fingers lightly stroking her white locks with his fingers. "You and I share the same suffering, Dear Girl. You for being a half-elf, silver-haired girl who looked just like the devil and I for being a Necromagus who raises the dead and manipulates Souls for my own reasons." He felt her stiffen from the contact. His lip curled at what she might be feeling inside, but he wasn't finished speaking yet, "But with a few distinctions: yours is unfounded and unwarranted all because of your appearance…and mine is wrought by the crude morals of humans, sometimes with little good reason."

He drew back but didn't let his hand move away, instead letting it glide to the top of her head. Her expression showed all the effects the prejudice of half-elves the public had on her. She's downtrodden, hurt and rejected. The resignation was there as well.

He patted her head, "Remember what I said, Emilia. I will _never _treat you any differently than any mortal I ever met. Who I have under my left hand is Emilia and no one else, a naïve little girl who saved my life and gave me kindness, not the devil who's called Satella. Besides…" He ruffled her head with slight roughness, making her head sway under his grip and make her grunt in protest, just to make her forget about her down mood. "…you're my _friend_, the one I'm _glad _to have in a land I was forced to. And just so you know, it's a _privilege _to be my friend. I _hate_ Above-Worlders, they are blind and the misplaced dislike they had on my people sickens me to no end. To earn my favor is a special thing." He placed her side-locks behind her elven ear before drawing his hand back. Emilia never left her gaze on him, hanging on to his every word. "As a friend, this Priest will find ways to take away all your sufferings and keep it for himself."

"Take it away?" She parroted softly, disbelief clouding her features.

He nodded firmly, "The prejudice you suffer from, it doesn't_ belong_ to you. The Order of the Serpent has been feared and hated since only the Dragon knows when. Our sufferings has long since become a part of our lives, yours are _not_. The feats of the Order of the Serpent preceded the Catastrophe created by the Witch of Envy. The birth of my people's suffering preceded the birth of _your_ people's suffering, the half-elves. This _crime _will not stand."

If he no longer has the desire to die, then he would need another reason to live—or put simply, perform another meaningful thing to do in the Realm of the Living before he goes home. And what he vowed just now will fit that job. Going through another hell just like before…if it means the dear girl will no longer have to suffer just like he did, then he will glad with just that. This Emilia is _precious_.

Even if he dies in the process.

And as the girl noticed that he was finished, she lowered her head, her expressions unseen. Looking closely and listening carefully, he could see her shoulders twitching and the slightest sniffles. The drops of liquid that fell on her knees was a clear indication of how much his words meant.

His eyes widened at the sensation of a fleecy sensation brushing across his cheek. Turning his eyes to the grey thing on his left, he found Puck hugging his face with his little frame. Opening one blue eye, the fay's words reached him in his head, _[You meant everything, didn't you?]_

He nodded slowly, _[Priests of the Serpent _never _lie. Even if my 5 days have passed and I leave this mansion, I will do whatever I must in the background to make sure Emilia is free from the things she suffers, directly or indirectly. I knows what it means to suffer like that, and I can't stand it when she goes through what I have.]_

_[If you're gonna do that, why not become a vassal or retainer to Lia? You'd have a lot more ground to cover that way and the things you'll do will have a lot more impact. You still haven't taken a reward from her or Roswaal, right?]_

Which means by taking advantage of the promised reward, he'll easily be a supporter of the candidate to the throne without going through the complicated process of earning any credibility or loyalty to earn such a rank. If he were to be honest…

_[Tempting…give me time.] _If his powers and methods done to support Emilia does _not _give her a bad reputation, he would be very surprised.

_[I'll be waiting.] _With a small lick to his cheek, Puck drew away and floated back to the dear girl's shoulder, rubbing his little paw against her head consolingly.

"S-Ser Emurdol…." She called in a teary voice.

"Yes?"

"Why….why would you promise such a thing for me…?" She choked out, wiping her face with her sleeves. Even so, the tears wouldn't stop from there. "I h-haven't even done a single thing for you…yet you would go so far….why? First, you saved my life…and now _this_? How could I deserve such….kindness from you? Be-because of what people think of half-elves, of _me_, you might suffer for it….you might suffer even more because of _me_. I don't want that to happen to anyone because of me…Just…_why_?"

….now that's a difficult question.

He looked away and thought of it carefully. He had never told her what living and dying meant to a Necromagus. He doesn't want her to know of his dismay of living. But then again, he had abandoned his desire for death at the moment. All his hatred and bitterness hidden in his subconsciousness has long since disappeared.

….then again, what reason does he have to hide it now? He _did _vow to help turn her life around. He's basically investing all of his efforts towards _her_. He's making _her _the cornerstone for his continued will to live. She _has_ to know.

"If you want my full honesty." He took a deep breath before sighing it out, preparing for how she'll react to this. "When my gut was split open in that loot house, Emilia, I was _never _expecting myself to be saved or even alive the next day."

"What?"

Pursing his lips, he continued, "Before I fell into shock, I activated a spell on myself that would hasten the rot on my body and shut down my essential organs."

Emilia's eyes were wide as she absorbed the information carefully. "But why? Reinhardt and I were still capable of saving you."

"I wasn't expecting to be saved by either of you, I _wanted_ to die that day. I wanted my life to _end._" He told without emotion, and there came the gasp he expected from her. He continued to speak. "I wasn't afraid to pass on, and I never had. But you and Ser Reinhardt didn't allow me that."

"But why?" She asked, concerned, "Why would you want to die? Won't your family and friends at your hometown be sad?"

"_No one _would care, Emilia." He coldly told, his eyes flashing a dim green light and Mother's embrace tightened even more. He shook his head mournfully, realizing the immense _truth _behind his own words, "No one will."

No one would _actually _care. If this had been Pandemonium, he wouldn't have callously said that. He had friends, true companions he had gathered during his quest to cull the lands of the Supreme Sins. He knows they will grieve if he falls. He sincerely would not want that. Even he would Go Home only if he saw Lady Sabarra's beautiful face one last time and she did _not_ stop him from doing so just like she had to others who have done it.

But this was _not _Pandemonium, this was a world that he did not know existed, that did not know _he _existed. No one knows him. He didn't know anyone in turn. How could anyone miss an _alien _whose culture and belief about death is barely even known by _anyone_?

"After _what happened_, I'm now _dead _in the eyes of the Order."

He could mean his sudden arrival to this world, where he is suddenly missing in Pandemonium and automatically declared deceased when the Order cannot even find the last trace of his existence right after he left the village to return and report his feats but never arrived.

There was, however, another context behind it, and his two listeners will _never _know both.

They will simply assume that because he nearly died due to having his guts spilling out, he's now declared _dead _in his Organization's perspective if they had been watching that incident from somewhere unseen.

"Dying is not something I fear, neither do those of my kin." He told monotonously, still as a corpse with only his mouth moving minimally, "The Afterlife is the one place we looked forward into going, the one place where no one hates us or rejects us, the one place that peacefully brings all things together as one, as equals. Mother and I could have went there together just like we've always wanted, we could have finally taken our rest, but you _denied _me my peace, Emilia. We're still here. The reason why I wept and despaired that night,_ now you know_."

He hasn't answered her question yet, he's only dragging it on, but with purpose. He was expecting a certain response out of her, and from how he had assessed her personality, he knows exactly what she's going to respond with.

"Well….I would care if you died, Ser Emurdol."

His point, exactly.

He clicked his tongue, displeasured, "You _don't _know that. You and I were barely acquainted properly when we first met. You were a pawn for my amusement, and I tried to _kill_ you. How could you possibly care for me?"

"You saved my life."

"That's _not _reason enough, Emilia." He firmly retorted, "Anyone with decent enough strength could save a life, and it would be fair to save the one who saved you in turn. Reinhardt could have done everything himself if he had been careful. I have not warranted such sincerity from you that day _prior_."

"No, I do care!"

His eyes instantly went wide for her outburst, but it was quickly tamed down into a reserved look. He turned to her, facing her firm features. "Then _why_? Why would you care if I had died that day, the day _before_ I had let your kind words give myself the strength to _live _again and had sworn to never squander your trust as I have given myself the heart to call you my friend?"

She winced when the question was too elaborate for her, and she looked down, biting her lip as she pondered the answer carefully. Puck merely floated and crossed his arms, looking over the proceedings quietly and making no move to support her case, likely because this is challenge is entirely for her.

"It's because…."

His silver brow quirked upwards in question, wondering if this answer would satisfy him better than her recent responses.

"….it's because you were kind."

_….now, how is that a good answer?_

Seemingly have read his thoughts from the doubtful expression on his face, Emilia elaborated further, pulling her side-locks and showing her elven ear. "I look just like the Witch of Envy, don't I?"

He nodded, telling her to go on.

"And you will not treat me any differently than anyone else you've met, yes?"

He nodded again.

"Then that's why." There was the ghost of a smile on her lips, "You treated me like an equal instead of someone to be feared like the Witch. Even if you had known the Witch before we met, you would still treat me the same. You brought your tomfoolery on me too and not just on Felt alone, didn't you? Not only that, but you had fought to defend me, Felt and her Grandfather without a thought, even at the risk of your own life. How could I not care about _that_? If the person who treated me like an equal and defended me were to suddenly die before I could properly thank him, I would never forgive myself for making him go through that ordeal for my sakes when I could have done something and likely failed doing it. I wasn't strong enough on my own to defeat that horrible woman. No stranger aside from the Royal Knights would go that far for me, a silver-haired half-elf who looks like the dreaded Witch of Envy."

….he cannot deny that. Even if he knew about the Witch of Envy _before_, he wouldn't act any different around her than he usually did. It shows in his attitude towards powerful and haughty archmages who are clearly powerful than him. He _did _defend the three without any thought about why. He simply did, because a _murderer _was going to slaughter the three of them. He also didn't consider that he could possibly _die_ that day. He wasn't fully resigned to the prospect of it, even if he _wasn't_ fighting at full-strength that day, until his gut was sliced open. He still planned to return to the Underground City once he was through there.

The latter half of her reasoning made him unable to challenge her thoughts anymore. He _lost _this fight.

"And now….now that you've became my _friend_, someone who I've thought I would never be able to have for my appearance, I would definitely care and cry if you died."

…...

…...

…...

It seems he truly made the _right _decision to live for her.

Looking away and facing straightforward, he asked, "You asked me why I would go so far for you, yes?" She saw her nod in the corner of his vision. "It is so I can find the meaningfulness of my existence."

This was the iconic part of being a Priest of the Serpent, the part of them that makes them _human_.

"Each Priest of the Serpent _always _seek the significance of their own worth as a mortal, and I am no different. We have manipulated the powers of death to _take_, it is only _right _and _proper _that we give back. We pay our due through the things we pledge to the world that hated us, even if it hurts." He turned to her, "If I can make a difference in your life, even if it does not elevate the prejudice you suffer from, even if it does the slightest amount of good to you, then I am satisfied. If you deny me the chance to die, then you should give me the reason to live. And I chose _you_ to be that reason. Will you allow me that, Emilia?"

He doesn't actually need her permission, but for the sake of this naïve little girl he called a friend and basically the cornerstone of his _existence_, he'll bother with the courtesies.

She was silent, but that smile on her lips was all the answer he needed. There's no way it could escape his eyes, even if he was outside were the sun would blind him. When she opened her eyes, red and soaked with years, she barely let it out without cracking, "Y-yes. I shall. Thank you, S—no. Emurdol."

_So she dropped the formalities as a sign of that bond between us, hm?_

He smiled back and pulled her close for a warm embrace, which she happily returned. Staying that way for almost a whole minute, he leaned back against Mother's chest, receiving praising shoulder pats and head ruffles. "You make me happy, Dear Girl." Not that he plans to stop with the 'tomfooleries', however. He didn't show any mercy to the people who treated him like the human he is, he has no intention to stop now.

With that handled, he should settle to the next issue.

Pulling his right sleeve back above the elbow, he formed an open palm facing forward before his left hand disassembled the prosthetic off his forearm and—

**SMACK!**

"Lord Mathers, if you even _dare _walk away after eavesdropping on us since the start, I swear to the Dragon that I _will_ render your daily life so miserable to the point that not even suicide is a solace to you!"

As if he could mistake the smell of cosmetics combined with the potent mana signature that only archmages uniquely had coming from the door for somebody else. As soon as his prosthetic was thrown out the door, he manipulated its flight path and had it veer to the right, at the perfect angle where it will potentially slap the bastard in the face.

"_Aaaah_! I've been exposed!" Looks like he wasn't slapped, given that the inflexion and the drawl wasn't any different from usual. The dandy enters the guest quarters, cosmetics and extravagant attire and all, smiling cheerily while his left palm faced forward at the level of his face as if he was about to recite a vow…._with the prosthetic stuck to it like a high-five_. "_Seeeeer_ Emurdol, I am familiar with the friendly greetings of commoners called a 'high-five' but I remember it being done at _arm's_-length and above the level of the face instead of 6 feet away and without detaching _aaaaany_ hands."

He held his glare, chagrinned at the fact that he didn't land a hit. "I admire your reflexes, at least." The damn clown deserved more credit than that. Compared to those who had done the same crime, barely anybody saw the attack coming. In some cases, the hand literally goes through their faces, brain matter, blood and bone expunged due to the amount of force put in the blow.

"Roswaal!?" Looks like the dear girl didn't expect him to be there. The color of vermillion proceeded to fill her entire face of pale skin, the shock on her face born from his sudden action of throwing his skeleton hand at the door slowly crumbling into a flustered look. "Yo-you were there the whole time!?"

"Well, _yeees_!" Without shame, the dandy admits it with a smile. "It was such a heartfelt exchange between two youths that I couldn't waste the chance to _seeeee_ the proceedings! Ah! Youth is so _woooooonderful_, isn't it?"

"Uuuuuh…this is so embarrassing….!" And the dear girl weeps away, covering her face with both hands and looking away to hide her shame. Puck's doing his best in consoling her, patting her cheek with his tiny paw.

Admittedly, he found the sight entertaining in of itself.

"_Heeeere_ you go, Ser Emurdol." Kneeling, Lord Mathers held out the prosthetic hand to him.

Stiffly nodding his thanks but still maintaining his glare, he took it and placed it back to his forearm, the bones opening and rearranging not unlike Mother's chest when she secures herself to him. After a few seconds, the skeleton hand abruptly clicked as it became mobile, beginning to follow the movements of his phantom hand that's been opening and closing its fingers.

He really doesn't know how that actually _works_ when he didn't even augment his mana towards it but like he said before, he won't question it.

"Now." He turned to the dandy once more, pulling the sleeve of his robe down to the level of his prosthetic, "Explain why you're here. I'm well-aware you're here for a reason besides snooping in the exchange."

"You presumed right." Lord Mathers walked towards the improvised study desk loaded with jars and vials. Giving the table contents a small glance, he took 2 chairs in hand and brought them over, one for himself and one for Emurdol. "I carry a concern from one of my dear servants, you _seeeee_. Rem, specifically."

Tch. That fucking maid again? Among everybody, she's the only one going wild with her suspicions.

Securing himself back to Mother before standing up, he lifted up the chair given and placed it to the dear girl's distance. In a certain point of view, he's _already_ seated. It simply looks like he's standing. "Let us hear it." He prompted, crossing his arms over his skeletal chest. Mother's arms went back to their iconic positions, one pair elegantly crossed behind his back and the other hanging loosely, fingers interlocked behind his waist.

"_Nooooow_ then…." Tugging his lock of dark-blue hair to the side, he began, "….just today, at the start of the morning, Ram happened to find Rem passed out on the bottom of the stairs of the first floor, _strangling herself_."

There was no drawl, and dullness began to shade the lord's mismatched eyes.

He frowned, genuinely surprised at what that maid was doing to herself, "Why?"

"In Rem's explanation, she was having night terrors, seeing the mansion and the village of Earlham yonder engulfed in flames with every living being, including myself and Beatrice being violated in ways unimaginable."

That drew a gasp from the dear girl, who seemed to have set aside her flustered state and paid close attention to what was said while she had taken a seat on the spare chair.

"And interestingly…" Lord Mathers shot him a pointed look, "…she found you in the center of it. Before she was forced awake, you were strangling the life out of her, Ser Emurdol."

Tch. He scoffed at what the lord was getting at. "I'm not sure if you're aware, Lord Mathers, but she doesn't trust me. If anything, that paranoia of hers is just the leading cause of these nightmares."

This is going to be one of _those_ situations again. By the Dragon, he's going to be _very_ tired at the end of this.

"I _woooould_ think so…but her weapon is somehow scattered in the middle of the hallway, and the floors are broken." He felt the change in the atmosphere, "It is as if…she was attacking something….or possibly, _someone_. Tell me, Ser Emurdol: where have you been last night?"

"So you're going to blame me for something that I didn't even know have _happened_? Is that what you're insinuating?" He's not holding back his cold tone this time. He's going to freely express his full displeasure at this situation. He's suffered this more than once and he'll act accordingly to the pattern. No matter how many times this happens, the displeasure _never _changes. "If you weren't paying attention yesterday, then allow me to inform you that I've been in that _fucking _gazebo for more than 8 hours. What have I been doing there? Speaking with the Spirits of Nature and the Souls of the Dead. In case your _fucking_ brain is starting to rot and forgetting what I said before, I _told _you before on the dining table that I would gain information, knowledge and learn more of the Kingdom of Lugunica during my 5 days of stay here. _That's _what I've been doing that whole _fucking_ time! And you know what I've found out? Both your Maids were _demons_!"

He was well-aware that his voice is getting raised, turning into a growl, but does he care? Among all the things he hated the most, it is that he's blamed for something he didn't even do. And _this _is one of them.

Mother knows that for a fact _very intimately_.

"You know what I would have done if I had found that out without hearing it from the Dead? I would have _killed_ them!" He could feel his eyes glowing like a bonfire and his hair was beginning to float. The emotion forcing out these words were reverting him into the same terrifying entity that every hellspawn he's killed knew. "But I inquired further. And I discovered that this country's demons are no different than a human, but only bearing a horn that amplifies their combat power. Not only that, but I learned that those animal-men I saw in the capital were _civilized _beings, capable of rationality, intelligence and freewill, _just like a human_. They _deserve _to live."

He glared hard at the lord's mismatched eyes, the necromantic energies rolling all over his form and tainting the mana in the air. "Beings like that, demi-humans you call them as well as those demons….they are _not _civilized from the 'Continent' I came from. They are nothing but _monsters_, seeking only to cause destruction and harm to all that is good. They…..were an _enemy _of mankind, so we kill them on sight without mercy. You do not understand how _fucking difficult _it is to be labeled the _same way_ as them….! Not only have I killed so many monsters that I could no longer count them but I even killed _people _as well….._**People**_** who thought the Order of the Serpent are no different than the monsters we've hunted alongside them! I have to look over my back every time!**" He looked away, gritting his teeth at the information he's recalling. "This….Continent of Four Nations….you had your own enemies….a _true _enemy of all living beings….Witchbeasts….offspring of the Witch Satella….! White whale….Great Hare…Black Serpent…..! This mansion is even situated close to a fucking _breeding ground _of those creatures…! If that fucking maid is having nightmares, why don't you consider that those fucking mutts are the cause of it instead of _ME!?"_

"Emurdol." A hand gently placed itself on his back, and another held his clenched skeleton hand. "Calm down. Calm down. No one's suspecting you of anything. Roswaal didn't mean any harm, he's just looking for answers. And I can see very well that you are not to blame for what happened to Rem. Don't you think so as well, Roswaal?"

"Yes, Lady Emilia. It is plain as day that Ser Emurdol is _iiiiiinnocent_. I sincerely apologize for _haaaaving_ unintentionally brought your past traumas to mind."

The fire still burned within him, but Emilia's grasp and gentle words was like a stream of water, dousing his anger very slowly. He felt his stiffness leave him, his breathing steadying and the glow in his eyes slowly dimming. With a guttural sigh, kneading his forehead, he gently brushed off Emilia's hand off his own but not without a nod of thanks. Turning to the clown, he asked harshly, "What the hell is that Maid even _doing _last night? How could she have ended up at the bottom of the fucking stairs?"

"Given from what she has told _meeee_…." Lord Mathers held his chin, "She was making her regular rounds and she has suspected you of doing something unfriendly when you entered the hallways with shambling steps in the dead of night…."

His scowl deepened. What the hell is this clown going at? Since when did he even come _close _to the fucking hallway in the middle of the night anyway?

"…._buuut_ she's come to the realization that it was all just a dream." He told in a joking tone, utterly killing the suspense in the air. "She apparently hid at the stairs, waited for you to come inside and see if you're about to cause trouble, ooonly to exhaust herself, likely from her duties that she passed out in the process. My goodness, Rem should learn her _leeeesson_."

That fucking maid. By the Dragon, he is going to give that fucking girl a piece of his mind the sooner his patience runs out. Can't she realize that she's all alone in her suspicions? She's going to fucking die if she doesn't stop it.

"Worry not. Ram's lecturing her as we speeeaak." The dandy informed with a smile, noting the dangerous look on Emurdol's face, "Rest assured that you will not get anymore _trooooouble_ from her again, Ser Emurdol."

Does this clown _honestly_ think that's going to make him feel any better?

Emotions run deep for Necromagi, especially when they decide to let their feelings be made bare instead of keeping them hidden under the influence of Emotion Suppression.

"Get out. Both of you."

"Hm?"

"Eh?"

He's still scowling and the frustration is still burning in him. Thanks to what Roswaal's telling him, he is no longer in the brightest moods now. The news of continued distrust from the maid and the fact that the trend of Necromagi receiving no respect is following after him like the plague despite entering this world where his magics are almost unheard of, he cannot maintain that composure anymore. Giving both of them a harsh glance, including Puck, he told them in the coldest tone he could muster, "I would like all of you here to please leave. I'm absolutely stressed. My headache is coming back. And I'm _beyond _displeased. I cannot suffer another second with another living being nearby me so _move it_!"

"I shall. My deepest apologies for _troooooubling_ you." Lord Mathers needed not be told twice, quickly vacating the room and disappearing into the hallway.

"Um," All that remains is the dear girl, who's still concerned for him. "Will you be alright?"

"_**GET OUT**_**!**" He roared, and it was enough to make her jump before she ran out the door, slamming it close behind her in her haste.

A few seconds pass, slowly acknowledging that he was truly alone, with nothing that has a heartbeat nearby, especially from the door, he took a deep breath and let it out, clawing his head all the way, "**AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgghhhhhh!‼!**" The powerful magnitude was enough to shake his improvised study and the jars atop it, a testament of his time in the Northlands.

Walking to the bed, with Mother's light footsteps dissonant to his current mood, he practically threw himself on the soft mattress as soon as the ribcage opened up and released him. His face mashed into the sheets, he continued to scream and he did not stop for a whole hour.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"What are you doing, Ser?"

Turning to the girl who just spoke, even if he knew it was the Fair Maid, he turned back to his work. "Making tea for Her Ladyship." He's only just beginning to stir the contents of the cup.

She looked at the kettle, coffee jar and cream placed on the counter in front of him. "Ram's surprised you know how to make tea. The simple presumption would be that you can make fine juice out of someone's blood."

He harrumphed, "Even if I drink shit-jars and eat organs for purposes of necessity, I am not that eager to commit cannibalism unless it had the benefit of empowering my person. And blood is more often than not a _poor _extract of empowering properties." He had thought otherwise before and was shocked that embalming liquid actually does the job instead.

The Fair Maid leaned forward, peering at the cup. "You did not put anything suspicious in it, did you?"

"If I had, it would be the tasteless extracts of Murky Baboon blood that would improve her stamina." He was not being sarcastic. He actually meant that and would have done so if he still had those extracts. "But since I no longer have any in stock, it will just be simple tea of fine quality."

"Before you take it to her, let Ram be a judge to your work." Picking up a spare teaspoon from the cupboards, she scooped a small amount before taking it to her lips. Rolling her tongue inside her mouth for a few seconds, she faced him, "On a scale of 1 to 100, you earn 89. Good work, at least."

She said that in such a tone implying that she could reach 100 every time. Somehow it's amusing instead of annoying. "Then I will have this delivered to her." Mother placing the cup on a saucer before placing both on a tray, he began to walk towards the door out of the kitchen in fluid steps, making sure he doesn't spill his cargo.

"Once you do, return here. Ram would have a word with you."

He already knows what the topic will be. Why is the Living World so bloody predictable? No wonder _leaving _it is a damn solace these days.

A long walk and several flights of stairs, he reached Emilia's room, he knocked.

"Enter." She allowed.

Twisting the knob, he entered with a small smirk as he looked at her hard at work with her studies, "You're working hard."

"Ah, Emurdol." She looked at the tray in his hands before turning back to him, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Maybe." Taking the saucer in his left hand, he steadily placed it on her desk. "Consider that an apology for my outburst." Though it was more of a professional courtesy than an apology. Earning the good side of people whose trust must be had is still a lingering habit, even though he doesn't have to with this girl.

"Oh no, no. It was understandable." She hastily waved it off before she took the cup in her hands, blowing into it before taking a sip. "It's good. Thank you."

"Hm." He nodded. "I'll be leaving now."

"Wait for a second, Emurdol."

He turned to look over his shoulder, "Yes?"

Her lavender eyes carried a soft light, "Are you sure you're okay now?"

Thinning his lips at the show of genuine concern, he turned back towards the door. "Maybe." He answered cryptically. He's still not in the brightest moods but he's giddy enough to tease.

"Come on! Can't you be a little more specific!?"

He closed the door on her, pretending not to hear.

Now to return to the kitchen as Ram intends to have an audience with him, and, against his better judgment, he's going along with it. He already knows how it's going to proceed, from start to finish. He might as well be rehearsing lines at that point. But still, leaving it alone will just make complications and that's not a good thing for him.

_Fucking predictable Living World that I have to fucking indulge._

He's so tired. He sighed, shaking his head. Upon entering the kitchen after a long walk, Ram only stood there with arms crossed.

Lightly slamming the tray down on the counter, making a loud thud in the silent kitchen, he leaned back against it, Mother's 4 hands gripping the edges and supporting his back while he faced the elder sister, crossing his arms. "Let's hear it."

"Not a lot of decorum in your name, do you, slamming trays on counters?"

"Get to the _fucking _point, Maid." He demanded, barely changing the tone of his voice. Beating around the bush, that was a first in this sort of thing. "I know this is about Rem."

She only blinked, barely looking away at his eyes sharply, "Then kindly tell me what you think happened to Rem when I found her on the bottom of the stairs strangling her own neck."

Now that was a far more rational response than he expected.

"And if I have nothing to give?"

"Then Ram will simply prod you until you cave."

He scoffed, half in amusement and half in mockery. "What makes you think it was me?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Ram never said that it was you."

He rolled his eyes, "Forgive me for assuming the most common assumption people like you make when incidents like this happen and someone like me is in the nearest _convenient _vicinity, now fess up. What makes you think it was _me_?"

She was silent, quietly assessing him with her eyes before she responded, "No one else in this mansion has the nerve nor willingness to pull a prank of that degree on Rem. Even the cute and perfect Ram would be hard-pressed to find somebody who ended up strangling themselves in their sleep once in their life." Now that is a fair point, "Things have been very stable until you came."

"More like your sister doesn't know how to calm down. If she carries that behavior of hers around whenever guests come here, I'm surprised she's still _employed_." It wasn't that uncommon for noble houses to evict such types. They cause a bad image to their _precious _reputation.

"Our usual guests do not wear bones and cause unease in the evenings."

"And this guest, who would use your body as a weapon once your dead, barely caused _any _harm, Maid. I _don't _want any quarrel with _anyone _in this mansion. I have been civil within reason."

"Then kindly explain _why _was her weapon left lying in the middle of the hallway with a section of the floors shattered? It can't possibly be left there without a good reason now, is it?"

"_I don't know_."

Ram's composed mien finally cracked. Her eyes went wide, utterly baffled at his response. "You _don't _know?"

"I _don't _know." He made sure he sounded very firm, "If she had attacked me, she would not be in perfect shape. I told you before. I do _not _show mercy to those who attack me without reason. And how could I come any closer to the hallway when I have been outside the whole night?"

"What have you been doing there?"

"Talking to Dead men, women and children, acquiring knowledge and information just as I had said before." With nonchalance and without shame, he told her. His every expression had remained consistent since the start, from his body language to his tone, it never broke from an even cadence. "If you want the answer to _why _your sister is there at the bottom of the stairs strangling herself, you cannot get anything from me because I have no answer. Lord Mathers and I have already spoken about this incident and he tells me that Rem should _learn_. Accept me or tolerate me, I don't care which. If she does not stop it, then there will be a _problem_."

He doesn't make empty threats, and he never had, not even to his friends. This is now the _final _strike for that maid. One more crime from her, and she's _done for_.

Ram sighed, running her fingers through her pink fringes. "Ram is now satisfied. That was merely to test you. Your innocence was already clear, Ram just wanted to make sure."

Huh. Now that's a surprise. This turned out differently compared to what he expected. He figured this audience would end up in a fight, but no. It didn't. "For her sakes, _please _keep your sister in a leash."

_No one has to die tonight. _He told, more to himself.

As he left the counter he leant on, he was unaware of the hand indentions Mother's grip had made before her arms returned to their iconic positions; one pair crossed behind his back and the other clasping fingers behind his waist. Walking over to the fridge powered by water mana crystals, he took out three eggs.

"Oh Fair Maid, you wouldn't mind if you sacrifice 3 eggs for me, yes?"

She looked at the objects in question in his hand, then turned back to him, "Do you plan to make Lady Emilia's breakfast as well? Serving her a dish of three eggs is a bit excessive."

He rolled his eyes again but chuckled anyway, "No. I intend to learn how to control the grip strength of this hand." He gestured to his skeleton hand, curling his fingers before flexing them at the level of his chest, deliberately making clicking noises with the joints. "The sooner I adapt to it, the better."

She stared at him for a few moments, then nodded. "Very well. You may have them. We have more to spare, anyway."

"Good." Then he pulled out an apple out with the skeleton hand, not knowing the amount of grip strength exerted accidently punctured the flesh with ivory fingertips and making juices leak out as he closed the fridge door with his hip. "May I have this?"

She blinked. "For what?"

He simply shrugged, "I'm just hungry."

Leaving it with just that, he left the kitchen and walked along the hallway, playfully rolling the three eggs in his left hand with skillful dexterity while taking generous bites out of the apple. At a certain distance where he was at the turn of the corner, he stopped walking for a moment and called out behind him, "Dear Maid, if you stare at me so intensely like that, you might bore a hole in me."

He doesn't need to look at the widened blue eyes who actually thought she was being inconspicuous when she was following behind at a fair distance away from him. Only the Order of Witch Hunters had the ability to escape the multidirectional sensory awareness of Necromagi. No demon has ever snuck up on him before, and someone like her is not going to be the exception.

Now to be someplace private within the yards of the mansion. Maybe at the exterior walls of the building with a lot of cool shade. He could have picked his room but he felt confined in there for once so he feels inclined to the outdoors for the moment.

And while he walked for a certain distance, maybe halfway to his destination now that he's out the door, he's now inclined to mention the presence that's been matching his pace in footsteps behind him just so she wouldn't be noticed. "Must you follow me, Dear Maid?"

He heard the tiniest squeak of surprise for being found out again. "No, Ser. You and Rem are simply heading to the same direction."

He nearly heard a stutter from the start there. This fucking maid's really tempting him to bait her into action, isn't she? Hasn't she _learned_? Didn't she get a lecture from Ram like what Roswaal has said? This _bitch _is stubborn.

Well…if he remembers right, he hasn't played that kind of game in a while. Why not indulge in it for a while? He _is _in a good mood for the moment. He'll see how long can she restrain herself before night time arrives.

So he continued walking, deliberately trying to alter his pace from quick to slow without giving it away, just to see if the maid's actually following him. And to his lack of surprise, she _is_. She's actually having him in her close watch. He couldn't help himself for this, "Dear Maid, stare at me like that for too long, you might trip."

He still felt her stiffness in the air for being found out the 3rd time. She _honestly _thinks she's being inconspicuous, huh? Pathetic Maid.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

After 1 apple reduced to its core and 3 cracked eggs, he has acquired likely 79% of control with his hand thanks to Mother's assistance in the process. The amount of control depends entirely on the durability of the bones as well. So he set a default that his hand is three times sturdier than ordinary bones, like mahogany branches. In comparison, he might be able to hold the dear girl's hand without breaking it. But he shouldn't be too hasty in that regard. He needs to be fully adept to it before he can rest easy and stroke her head without breaking her skull.

The next order of business after that, he had requested the Fair Maid to judge his writing ability. As he is basically illiterate and has _recently _learned this country's written language last night, he wanted to have a native's judgment. He would write three poems for I-script, Ro-script and Ha-script respectively, containing 6 stanzas that would contain every possible unique syllable and symbol. By the time he's finished, he'll call for her.

He didn't actually anticipate that he _couldn't_ _write _with his right skeleton hand anymore. Not only that, he snapped the quill in half just by trying to write the _first_ syllable. So he left it to Mother to write for him, having more proficiency in writing without any physical sensory nerves than him. Next time, he'll improve his writing ability.

In the span of an hour with Mother's flowery handwriting filling the blank sheet, choice of words and symbols dictated by him, all 3 poems were finished. If he was to lack his humility, he will admit that they're impressive. Then again, poetry isn't the Order of the Serpent's strong suit. He's not trying to impress anyone, this is purely for the sake of his literacy.

When the Fair Maid was called to his room and read his works, she gave him a _very_ thorough feedback, "Your first poem would definitely swoon your childhood crush if you were still young. Your second poem would definitely earn the hand of a long since passed maiden. And your third poem would likely send the entire kingdom into chaos for how atrociously you structured it."

He couldn't hold back his raucous laughter after hearing it. It was a firm reminder _why _he LOVED the Fair Maid. She was so honest and had the bluntest tongue that rivaled a Priest of the Serpent's—he couldn't help but find it very endearing and _refreshing_.

Basically put, his first poem, the I-script poem, which was a translation of a childish poem taught to Above-World little ones, earned a perfect score. His second poem of Ro-script, which translated the truth of death and acceptance that all Priests of the Serpent follow, was also perfect. His Ha-script is the only that's actually fucked, nothing more than the History of the Serpent that gave birth to the Order. With helpful criticism regarding structure, grammar and sequence, she was able to help him recreate the poem in proper form.

Just like that, he was no longer illiterate in this country.

Giving her thanks and incinerating his works of art into ashes in his skeletal hand by suddenly combusting them, he set out to do his next order of business despite the daylight hours when he should be resting.

And that is to _bait_ the Dear Maid into action. He's not blind enough to _not _notice her presence standing outside the door ever since the Fair Maid entered his quarters. He would do whatever kind of activity that existed; go out of his way to chat with anyone he sees, explore the layout of the building despite learning it from the Spirits, or simply walk around the mansion premises to find good soil. Good soil means a potential area to create strong mud golems, or to fill his right gauntlets now that he doesn't have a flesh right hand.

No matter what he did or where he is, he would always sense the Dear Maid nearby, watching him while she does a chore that he knows was already finished hours ago, or she would linger too long doing the same chore in the same place just so he could be within her sight.

In every opportunity he would make a mention of her lingering sight, with no hesitation.

"Dear Maid, watch where you're going. You might hit the wall."

"Dear Maid, eyes on your work. You might wipe off the artistry of that vase."

"Dear Maid, if you linger your eyes in my direction for so long like that, I might misunderstand that you're falling for me."

Interestingly, the Fair Maid was always with her. And it was easy to tell that the elder sister was reining the little sister's actions or impulses. The former would always make an excuse for the latter's actions, by saying his hair was distracting Rem. It's always about the hair. The Dear Maid would play along as well. He knows fucking well that it's all because she's suspicious of him, like always.

So he resorted to the one remark that would definitely trigger her impulses. After coming back from the forests outside the mansion borders testing his newly acquired magical affinities of fire and earth, he passed through the gates, with Ram who had accompanied him following behind and Rem awaiting at the entrance. By the Dragon, she's giving it away just by being there. Isn't she a maid? Shouldn't there be chores to do instead of standing there, expecting guests home?

At the right distance, he turned to her and said it:

"Dear Maid, if you look at me so intensely like that, it would seem as if you wanted to kill me."

There. Her eyes widened. Not because of such a presumption put on her but because he was _right_. Even more because it was a _genuine _remark, not because he wanted to get a reaction out of her. Unlike her, he's unparalleled in regards to masking his intentions. That is how you fool others; you should fool yourself, just as he fooled himself into believing the Dear Maid would lighten up after coming back chatting amiably with her sister. It's a code to never lie, but it was never mentioned that it's not allowed to lie _mentally_.

He's been through this many times already, having already read the pattern and she's playing along with it accordingly. Compared to her sister who deviated with it, she's _malleable. _The more she does, the more she's playing into _his _hands.

As always, the Dear Maid held herself back from acting out of hand. As always, the Fair Maid was quick to bring up an excuse for the little sister's expertly veiled glare. As always, the latter would play along. As always, he didn't believe her a damn bit.

As it was more than three hours after the passing of midday, he still has more to do. He might as well practice his handwriting, with a bone pen on a board of ivory as fragile as clay. It would be nothing more than carving names on wood but it's cost-free. He won't have to break any quills in the process.

First thing first, however.

It's about time that he's had enough.

He sighed, and a hardened demeanor enshrouded his form. Just before he entered his room, he laid his hand on the frame and held still like a statue, waiting for Rem to pass by.

And to his lack of surprise, she _did _walk on the same corridor he went through, hearing her set of footsteps stop right behind him. "Is something wrong, Ser?"

"Are you contemplating your life decisions by staring at the door, Ser?"

"Rem." He addressed the person he must talk to. "I demand your audience, _right this instant_."

"Ser?"

"Ram." He addressed the other who would likely interfere with what's to come. "I would like you to give us privacy. This is going to be very _sensitive _talk between me and your sister."

There was a pause, and he could feel uncertainty and trepidation in the air. But it only lasted a moment.

"Very well. Enjoy Rem's company. Do kindly treat each other kindly while Ram isn't looking. Rem, do as he says."

"Dear Sister….okay…" There came an unsure response from Rem.

His eyes were wide for the _immediate _compliance. He expected a confrontation because Ram is _extremely _aware of what he's going to do, and she's _allowing _it? He knows the elder sister is sharper than that. Does she not worry? Is this going to be consistent of the Fair Maid's character, deviating his _every _expectation?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts of these questions and entered his room, the constant occupant that was the skeletal magus already taking a chair and placing it in the middle of the room while he stood before his table full of elixirs. "Close the door." He told.

After a few short seconds, he heard the sound of the door closing and being _locked_.

Holding a calm glare in his glowing green eyes, his hair beginning to float and the air beginning to be tainted in small doses of his influence, he spoke in nothing but sharp whispers that seemed to echo all over the room, keeping his back turned to her.

"Drop it."

"Pardon, Ser?" She asked innocently.

"You _honestly_ think I haven't noticed?" He _cannot _believe the audacity of this maid. "I'm telling you to _stop_ the charade. I've had enough of your subtle contempt and suspicion. If you have a problem with me, why don't you express them? It's not as if it's something I don't suffer most of the time in the presence of idiots who do not know me. If anything, your polite way of showing it makes me _sick_. Compared to your annoying attempt of a façade, your sister's honesty is something I consider comfortable."

His tone remained toneless but even, and his body language implied nothing when the tainted mana in the air around his person said otherwise.

"Your suspicion is understandable given the circumstances of this kingdom and my sudden presence but have you ever given me the benefit of the doubt? Have you ever considered that, unlike what you presume, I am _not _an enemy in this mansion? I did not simply return Emilia's insignia nor did I put my life on the line to defend her because I seek compensation, I've done so because I simply wished to do so. Why else would you think I haven't figured out my reward?"

He truly meant what he said but he will not mention that he wanted to _die_ that very day. He's already going out of his way to find another reason to _live_, to delay his departure. It doesn't matter whether it's a curse or a blessing to do so but to live just to suffer _this_ treatment is simply unacceptable.

Especially not after everything he's been through before he was forced into this world.

"Have I done something to warrant such a wary glance? Is there something about me you don't like? Is there something you would like to say to my face? Hm? If there is, then say it. I will not retaliate. I swear to that. I will _not_ move from here. I will hear them out with an open mind, without the slightest twitch of every single muscle in my body. I have suffered worse, especially from the people who called for my _help_."

He waited for her to speak. He's completely open to her responses, passive as a rock and willing to accept them before they start reasoning with each other. He desired a civil relationship with anyone in this mansion, and discord of a sort can _easily _break the continued unity of this mansion. He knows that for a fact, because he was one of the leading causes of organizations falling out on themselves back in Pandemonium. They were sick scum who deserved what's coming for them but not this one.

Yet why does she not speak? Why?

…..

…...

At the passing of her granted 10 seconds, he no longer had the inclination to hear her out anymore. It's absolutely certain that this Maid will _never_ talk to him.

It's settled, there is no longer any doubt that the _inevitable_ will come. If she's not going to stop, then he's going to have to take it by his own hands to make sure it doesn't happen. To end this nonsense once and for all.

This is mercy.

"If you refuse to say it then this discussion is over. I will not press it any further. I'd rather be away from you than suffer another second of your disgusting glance." He turned around sharply, expressing his hostility with the nakedness of a blade and grabbing her arm as soon as he reached her, roughly leading her to the door. He ignored her non-hostile demeanor. He ignored her unreadable expressions. He ignored her trying to say something.

He lost his patience. He's _done_.

His skeleton hand reaching the knob, he barely pulled it off the frame before he twisted it and opened the door but not without saying this, nothing but hisses and growls through gritted teeth, "If I see you near me, if I even see you _look _at me, you will earn my _wrath_. I have had enough of your behavior. I've had enough of your suspicions. And I have enough of _you._ Remember this," He leaned his head close to hers, sneering. "I will _not_ put any effort in earning your trust, nor your sister's, nor even that of the _clown _you call Lord. I have already earned the trust of the person standing at the top of the hierarchy of this building, therefore I _don't_ need yours. If you cannot come to terms with my presence, then _**FUCK OFF**_!"

With a thunderous roar that shook the open door in its frame, he threw her out of his room and she roughly hit her side against the opposite wall before he practically thrown the door as he closed it, creating an ear-shattering slam that literally _cracked _the frame.

Stomping to the middle of the room, literally quaking the quarters with each heavy foot step, his elixirs at the table bouncing, he looked up to the ceiling and cried a guttural scream that resounded across several rooms around him.

"_**AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgghhhhhh!‼!**_"

Every single one of his windows cracked from the magnitude in the aftermath.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

After Mother placed his name and signature on the bottom of the parchment, he folded it into a small square and slotted it in the hollow compartment of his skeletal magus' skull through the eye-socket. With a point of his clawed finger, the construction obediently went to the chair and sat down.

His dark chest plate was intact but the plackart that covered the abdomen was split apart because of the assassin, therefore he cannot use it anymore. Left to only his dark clawed gauntlets, and additional bone armor to counteract his unprotected abdomen, with the light-eating robes still worn under it, he can safely assume that he is ready. His right gauntlet packed with strong dirt to fill the space of flesh and muscle his skeletal hand lacked, and his wand still strapped to his spinal belt as he brushed a claw across it, he has everything with him. With his bag of bones strapped to his back, the cloak on his person and all his experiments stashed in advance, he may now leave.

He had spoken with several Spirits and Souls in his self-confinement, employing them under temporary service to report him what was going on in the mansion, and he heard of the current happenings. The sisters had went out shopping earlier. It's very likely by the suggestion of the elder sister, just to get him and the maid away from each other. What he's done was reported to her, and had more than enough sense to understand _why_. Shortly after when they got home, they came across Roswaal who was about to leave for a business meeting.

He wasn't sure if this was a stroke of luck or the act of fate itself, but this was the _perfect opportunity _to enact the plan he has cultivated during the entire several hours he spent inside his room, packing his things into the Void. He waited till night, and now is the moment to act.

He will not allow the pattern to pass. He's _saving _this place.

The Maid, Rem, is a dangerous wildcard. Ram could only hold her back for so long. She alone carried the highest risk of causing a fallout in this mansion. He will not show mercy when she finally decided to take matters in her own hands and attack him. He might kill her in self-defense. Even if he would hold back, then Mother would do it instead. And if she dies, he will earn the ire of not just the elder sister but also Lord Mathers himself. Emilia will be conflicted. Whether she takes his side or not, it will strain her _willingness _to fight for the throne because her relationship with her patron has been strained because of the latter's servants doing things she did not like.

So, he's going out of his way to make sure all that does not happen. By leaving. If he leaves, the mansion will no longer have to suffer any tension because of his presence. If he leaves, he will not suffer another second of keeping his own well-being safe with the Maid around.

He felt uneasy for doing this. The old him would not have done this. He would have killed that Maid the sooner he realized she was a liability. Instead, he's making sure she doesn't die from _his _hands of all people. He's _saving _the people he hated…._again_…

….he truly has gotten soft.

Growling and shutting off all the negative emotions that's riddling him ever since he made his decision, he opened the window open, letting the night wind breeze against his face, throwing his hood back and making his silver hair fly.

For a moment, he basked in the cool and the fresh air. As he looked back at the door, he uttered the one thing that will stay true till he no longer had the fire to go on. "I will cheer you on from the shadows, Dear Girl."

With a leap from the first floor window, his feet met the stone ground with a slight bend of his knees and the impact force coursing through his body. Wearing his hood back over his head, he bolted out of his position and ran for the mansion borders.

He never looked back as soon as he jumped over the gate and ran down the road to the Village of Earlham, trusting the employed Spirits to lead him the way.

Through the road path in-between the forests, through the zigzagging roads, and over the hills. He found a large bonfire alit in the distant village that looked like it could contain 100 or more people. It was definitely Earlham village like the Spirits have directed. Not only that, other dots of fires have illuminated every part of the village, the shadows of the night held back at the borders.

The mere sight of it set him on edge.

Because it was a clear indication of a state of emergency happening. Some customs apparently didn't change, even if this was another world. If memory served him right, this domain is _very _close to a Witchbeast breeding ground.

If what he think is happening _is _happening….oh dear.

Mother felt his concern and sprinted even faster.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

As soon as he arrived, the residential Spirits that belonged to long-dead villagers as well as those of Nature Spirits were _panicking_. The atmosphere of the village was anything but calm. He could feel apprehension in the air, there was unease. It felt like this place has _lost _something. The people running about were not a good sign.

A young man ran up to him.

"You there. Who are you? Sorry but the village is in a bit of a struggle right now. So you gotta—"

"You!" His commanding voice overshadowed the young man's own, shutting him up, "What is going on?"

The man was shocked at his harsh inquiry but he was wise enough to answer quickly, "A bunch of children are missing. We knew they were playing before it gets dark but…they didn't come back. That's why a bunch of people are looking for 'em."

The Spirits then began shouting messages to his head, their emotions were brimming with worry. They were _pleading _him to do something. The instability of this situation is a lot worse than what the young man thinks.

_Forest….witchbeasts…..little pup…unknown child….…lured…..at the wall…children…__cursed__…..**hurry**..._

Scrunching his face, he faced the young man, who never noticed the commotion happening in his head. "Did you check the forests past the wall?"

"Th-the forest? Why there? That's witchbeast habitat…even the children know better than to go—"

Why do these villagers live _nearby _somewhere like that!?

"Follow me!" He snapped and bolted to the direction of the forest. He did not wait for any compliance from the boy but he better must. The other Spirits are beckoning him to the same direction as well. Reaching the forest, with the young man's footsteps following after him, he slid to a stop. There was a clamor happening in the residing Spirits nearby.

He paused to heed them.

_Barrier…..broken…..witchbeasts…..can cross through now…stone barrier….no more power…..**hurry**…children in danger…..bitten….__**hurry**__….._

Shaking his head, he looked directly at the bark of the tree. There was a crystal embedded into it.

"Young man." He called out to the boy behind him, slightly out of breath for failing to match his intense sprint. "What does that mean?" He pointed at the crystal.

"Huh?" The boy, tired and disheveled, looked at what he pointed, then his face instantly lapsed from exhaustion to horror. "Oh no! The barrier's broken! Oh no! The children….! If they had gone into the forest….or if one of the witchbeasts have broken through….!"

"Listen!" He set himself in full authority over the man, wanting no argument and needing only full compliance. "Gather your most able men and bring them here! The children are inside the forest! I will head in and see if I could find them!"

"But how do you know—"

"Just do it!" He snapped, his eyes flaring green and his hair flying. His hood had been flown off minutes ago, and that made his features even more visible despite the limited light of the moon thanks to the trees. "The more time you waste, the more likely the children might be eaten! Now go!"

"O-okay!" So he ran back as fast as he can, calling out the names of the ones who can do the job.

Facing the forest, hearing the requests of the Spirits and Souls to _hurry up_ and _save them_, he shut them all out and considered the circumstances as well as his motives.

This incident cannot be ignored. It can't be. Because of the moronic structure the Above-World has made in their stupid hierarchy, this is potentially a danger not just to the village but also to the mansion itself, _specifically _Emilia.

If the children were to die, custom—or otherwise, logic—dictates that the ones held liable is the master of the domain. It will mar the reputation of Lord Mathers. He could care less about that damn clown's reputation but what he's concerned about is the dear girl herself.

Being a close resemblance to the devil, Emilia will _inevitably _suffer the full brunt of the blame despite her innocence. Despite the passing of the Witch of Envy, the world still feared the Witch and her influence is still visible in the world, _especially _the existence of witchbeasts.

If he can prevent that from happening, then _he_ _shall. _Whether it's a favor to return due to her giving him the reason to continue living, or to credit this as his first feat of protecting Emilia's name just like he vowed to do, he will do what he can to bring the children back. This is for her.

Judging from the Spirits, they didn't mention anything about any witchbeast breaking through and hiding somewhere in the village. That leaves out one concern. All the concerns lie beyond, and he must address them.

Necromantic energy rolling off his form, the mana in the air is quickly tainted. When the amount was right, he drained all the tainted mana into himself and processed multiple chunks of it into potent mana that he could use. Life force gathered around him, and they congregated to the soil. By his command and with a slight exertion of will, he called the Earth to assist in this ordeal.

"**HA!**"

In 4 places of the soil nearby him, bulky hands of mud and dirt exploded out of the ground and pulled their bodies out. Golems of stone and mud, perfect for the task against beasts of the devil. The ground shaking in their birth, each one slammed their rocky fists together to indicate their readiness to serve. As the remaining 2 were just about to complete their exit from below, he transferred an ample amount of mana to Mother. With the given energy, she summoned a set of bones out of the ground in front of him. He added a few teeth bones to the pile made from his bag of bone dust, just so there could be a foundation for the soul. Instead of using his power over Life to make them rise, he will instead employ those who were willing to stand up to his cause.

Specifically, the Souls of long passed villagers.

Selecting those with the fiercest emotions from the numberless roster, he waved his glowing hands over the bones and transferred their Souls to the frames below his feet. By their own will instead of his own, they formed themselves into perfect skeletons, built like stone and as fast as Mother could run, wielding swords and axes of bone and ivory. This tiny army greatly differ from the ones with artificial souls, the voids in their sockets carrying a pale blue light that glowed just like his own orbs of green. The literal representation of the metaphor: Windows to the Soul.

With an entourage of 6 skeletons and 4 golems, no witchbeast will ever get to touch him.

As he took the first step towards the objective, his mental state suddenly changed gears, resolve lapsing into immense hatred.

As a result, the mud golem next to him whirled in speeds that defied its hulking size and caught a large iron ball of spikes from hitting its frame with its rocky hand, sending pieces of rocks and stone flying from the impact but holding the weapon of death firmly.

His eyes burned brighter than before, a green glow shining on the flesh near his sockets, and the air became tainted once again. With a guttural voice that would have made him no different than the demons he's killed before, he asked, "**You do not quit, do you, Maid?**"

Turning around in snapping speeds, he saw the damnable women herself standing there, the other end of the flail that was the grip in her right hand. "The young man told me that you planned to save the children. Is that true?"

She asks that even as she had just thrown her weapon at one of his creations, "**And why should I **_**answer **_**to you?**"

"It's too good to be true." She said, her voice stone cold and professional. Despite the situation she was in, she perfectly maintained her persona as a maid. In a different mood, he might have complimented her. But as of now, he feels nothing but disdain towards her. "With Lord Roswaal absent and suddenly this happening, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say you plan to do something heinous. This could be a ploy to attack the mansion. With your abilities to create minions, it only adds to my theory. Do you plead guilty or do you plead innocent?"

Even though she's suspicious of him and never even _trusted _him since the start, she had the fucking _nerve _to take the position of judge…..!

"**I will not plead, you damn **_**bitch**_**!**"

In response, she yanked the iron ball out of the golem's tight grip, destroying its hand in the process. She reared it back for another attack and as the flail was flying straight towards him, a flying boulder shaped like a fist collided against it in midair and sending it down to the soil, thrown by the golem from the furthest right, missing a left hand.

"If you were innocent, then for what reason would you do this? _Why_ would you go so far for a village you don't even know existed? _Why_ would you go so far for children you never even met? Even if you had answers for them, how can Rem trust you?"

Her tone was different this time. She truly wanted to know the answer, she wanted to know why. His answer is simple. He had _no _reason to do any of this in the first place. The village didn't matter to him. The children didn't matter to him. Their lives held little relevance to him. It would be simple to just tell her all this.

But she said something she shouldn't have, especially when her behavior against him for the last three days have been nothing but dubious. She only stoked the fires of his anger even further, and it was nearly becoming a conflagration.

"**Like I said…**" His words were barely comprehensible amidst the demonic growl, and one of his skeletons suddenly dropped its bone axe. "**….I don't. Need! Your! **_**TRUST**_**!**"

Before she could even blink, the unarmed skeleton suddenly went flying towards her and its skeletal fist landed solidly against her forehead, hard enough to break its own stone-hard hand to pieces, powerful enough to send her head lolling backwards and almost to an unconscious state as she fell on her back.

In the midst of her disorientation, a massive hand of stone held her entire frame down, pinning her against the soil with only her head and legs visible. Her arms couldn't move, she couldn't raise her body up—she could not break free from the grip. When a second golem quickly placed a hand atop the one already on her, adding more heavyweight, she was quickly rendered powerless, unable to do anything.

…Not.

The horn sprouted out of her forehead, the demon in her blood responding to the precariousness of her situation, and suddenly, she had shattered the rocky hands pinning her down as she spread her arms to the side and crushed them with her petite hands alone. Rolling to the side to evade a pair of fists raised up to crush her head coming from a 3rd golem, she quickly grabbed the handle of her flail and lashed out.

With just a single swing, the iron ball of the flail reduced all 3 golems to nothing but the soil they once were. Turning to where the man was, he has already departed, his 6 skeletons and 1 golem gone with him.

With her nose, she sprinted into the forest and tracked down the man who carried the Scent of the Witch. She will not have the premonition she had from her dreams come to be.


	8. Witchbeast

The common folk had justified fears in regards to Priests of the Serpent. As soon as they see one passing by, what they dreaded the most aside from their morbid appearances and haunting entourages was that they could become the Necromagus' target, because no matter what you do, even if you run, even if you flee to another country, even if you hid in a place that no one has ever known except you, they _will _find you. And it _always _ends with a dead body and rarely ever will the Pale Ones spare your life without any lingering effects, physically, mentally or psychologically.

So they often ask: how does a Priest of the Serpent find their target, as if they had already known where they would go or which direction they would take? Speculation began from there, creating even more rumors about the Order of the Serpent. Maybe they could read minds. Maybe they could track you down by smell like a dog. Maybe they know their target very well. Maybe they took information from others about you.

There were too many.

In actuality, their methods were simple. To hunt down the _scum _who call themselves Necromagi and instantly sully the name of the Order of the Serpent the moment they use their magic for the _wrong _reasons, they would rely on the voice of Spirits who were witnesses to their atrocities. If the Priest fails to catch their target but manages to touch them, the Curse of Finding they planted would lead them to where they are. If the Priest wishes for a challenge, they would track them down purely by scent. Thanks to their experiments and numerous bodily operations, their senses were greater than the average human. Even without their operations and having only an ordinary human body, the Subterranean City reeks of nothing but decay, dampness and bones; the moment they step out into the world and discover scents they have never smelt before, they can easily separate the smallest detail of every source. Even a single blade of grass is unique.

In his case in regards to this task, he is relying on his nose to track down the missing children. Living flesh is very recognizable, the easiest target to track down. Using this method as well as following the directions of Spirits who have witnessed the little ones passing by, it won't be long before he finds them.

The sooner he entered the forest, it really showed that it was an untamed place. The vegetation and foliage of the plant life were so dense that they block the soil from being touched by the moonlight, making the entire environment very dim and dark, and more often than not he had the exposed skin on his face scratched to the point of bleeding by the numerous plant life despite hewing them down with Mother's sickles.

The environmental conditions hardly bothered him, however. His night-vision is the most developed, a familial genetic quirk he was glad to have at this moment, and the Order of the Serpent's curriculum included how to prevent bleeding without physically doing _anything_.

It would be ideal to have his lumbering Golem take the lead while dictating which direction it should take, potentially clearing the obstructive path of green with its girth, but that would only take long and endanger the little one's safety even further. Fortunately, the Spirits have said that they are still _alive_, but not for long. He must **hurry**.

Slowly but surely, the scent of living flesh was getting stronger, _nearer_. The Spirits' frantic beckoning were starting to turn glad for his nearing proximity to them. Not only that, he isn't smelling any blood. He could have smelt the copper-like stench from several meters away. That potentially means the little ones were uninjured, that's good.

With a scissoring motion of his two sickles, the dense shrubs is cleared out for him to easily pass through and the forest in front of him opened up to a high little hill, the moonlight finally shining down on him.

And just up ahead, he saw 6 small bodies sprawled out on the grass.

"There they are." He said in a glad whisper, Mother quickly bolting towards them with his Golem quickly following after him Gorilla-style.

Sliding to a stop and dropping to his knees before a young girl's sprawled-out form, he suddenly cringed his head back before he could assess their conditions. It was the smell of a _curse_. It seemed the Spirits were worried for another reason besides the witchbeasts living in these parts. The children were _cursed_.

Looking over each child, he confirmed that they were under the same condition: debilitated—weakened. Returning to the little one before him, he placed a metal hand on her forehead and had his mana course over the little body, performing a quick diagnosis.

He sneered at what he found. He knows this curse. It was the Curse of Sleeping Death. A spell that can diminish not just mana but also life force over time, eventually shutting down their essential organs and killing them in their sleep. A downgraded version of the one he used on himself at the loot house. A painless but unsympathetic death to anyone who still had a life to live. And it has been _activated_.

_Oh dear…_

Despite a Priest of the Serpent's specialties, they _despise _curses that **kill**. Priests of the Serpent do _not _exist solely to kill people, they appease the unresting dead, maintain the Balance of Life and Death and seek meaning in their lives just like any other mortal. And like any mortal, they have the right to defend themselves, and it often means taking a life. And when they use a curse, it's _always _to weaken, _never _to kill. To see such a curse used on a _child _of all people is something that infuriated him the most, and likely a heavy majority of the Order.

When he finds the one responsible for this…

For now, he must do something. This is something he never liked in regards to dispelling Killing Curses that has been activated but then again, he's had worse before he took his first step outside the Underground City. Taking his wand in hand, he waved it across the little body, trying to find the place the curse was put. Finding it in the little girl's hand, its source coming from a bite wound that looked like it belonged to a small animal, a puppy most likely, he took it with his free hand, holstered his wand back to his bone belt and took out his kris.

"…wh….who…." A small voice forced out, almost unheard but thanks to the silence of the night, he heard it very well. The girl was conscious and the fright in her eyes were apparent as he looked. "…g…..get away…."

"Shh-shh-shh…." He gently shushed the girl, putting down the knife and patting her head, softening his features to make sure he doesn't frighten her any further. "It's alright, Little One. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to help you."

The girl said nothing but she had stopped trying to crawl away. Good. He has her cooperation.

"You have been cursed. It's making you weak and draining your energy. But worry not, I am going to eat the curse and bring you back to health. Do you understand?"

He made sure that his voice is soft and reassuring, not fast-paced and using words that were easy to understand. The more the child trusts him, the easier it gets. And to his credit, he earned a nod.

"Very good." He patted her head once again before taking her knife back in hand, "Now, in order for me to remove the curse, I am going to need to open a small cut in your hand. Just a small cut. It will hurt, I understand, but I assure you, it will be quick and the pain will be over. Do you understand?"

To his amazement, she nodded again. This little one's _brave_. Most Above-World children don't like to feel pain, even if they were at their 12th turn like this one.

"That's a brave little one." He squeezed her hand in praise, "Now, I'm going to begin so please bear with me." He felt her hand tighten in its grasp on his metal gauntlets in apprehension. "Now hold still…"

Due to having a skeleton hand that lacks physical nerves, he cannot trust himself to do this perfectly like he used to so he entrusted the knife to Mother's front right arm, leaving it in the expertise of another skilled hand. With a gentle glide, the kris is slowly drawn over the bite wound that contained the curse. As the blood trickled out, so did the disgusting traces of the Killing Curse in the form of a black mist thanks to the mana enshrouding the blade pulling it out.

Mouth agape, he proceeded to devour the curse itself. And the little girl looked on, watching as the black cloud that was coming out of the cut slowly seeped into his mouth. He twitched, convulsed, grabbing at his abdomen as if he's eating something revolting, but he persevered and kept his mouth open, determinedly eating the affliction that had made her suffer so. The more he ate, the denser the black cloud was getting. And eventually, the pain in her body was slowly disappearing, congregating to the single point in her cut hand, allowing her to breathe normally and let out a relaxed sigh.

By the time he was done, he quickly looked away and retched out the contents of his belly to the side, the grass slowly melting from the acids. The thing about Killing Curses is that they taste like shit. But at least the curse itself is transferred to him, saving the child from eminent death. With his abundant mana and his robes that restore mana, he can last for as long as he wishes before it could start eating his life force, or 'Od' in this world's concept.

But if he devours other 5 children's curse, his mana will be drained 5 times faster and his robes won't be enough to cover it up. He'd _die _from the Killing Curse itself. The thought of it is _tempting _in of itself, as it would send him home to the Dragon but he forced the idea out. He finally has the will to live, therefore he shouldn't rush so soon. The longer the wait, the sweeter the reward.

A Priest of the Serpent worth their salt must know how to counteract curses, even when they're activated, and he is no different. As soon as he ate all the children's curses, he can simply—

"There's…" His attention snapped back to the girl, trying to tell him something. And at the moment were she should be resting instead of talking, it must be something _crucial. _He quickly leaned his ear to her mouth, "...another…still….the forest….." She fell silent, her consciousness falling away.

…..

…..He leaned back upright and thought up the conclusions from what he heard: there's another child in the same state as them somewhere in the forest, _alone_.

And he doesn't like the sound of it. Not because the likelihood of that child being dead, but because it was _odd_.

Why was _one _child away from the rest?

Did the child get too far away when the curse was activated? Did the child get dragged to a different location? Was it to lure someone into a trap? If that was the case, why wasn't _this _place with all the children together a trap itself? First of all, _why _were the children _alive _to begin with? Don't witchbeasts kill and devour _all _living things, embodiments of malice and all? From what he's hearing from the Spirits, witchbeasts were the cause of their curses. _Why_ were they cursed instead of eaten?

Whichever case it is, he is _not _liking the sound of it. All of this sounds _too _wrong. Too inconsistent. There's so many questions arising as he kept thinking about it.

But he tried not to think too much of it, he must attend to these children first. Now to proceed to the next child—

His Golem twisted around with a squared stance, facing the direction they came from. He noticed its movements and looked into the same direction. The fiery glare of his green eyes and the floating of his hair were immediate.

_Oh great, __she's__ fucking here._

He thought the 6 skeletons he had stay behind back in the forest would be sufficient in delaying the maid long enough for him to be finished with curing the children. It seems he needed more firepower than 6 strong and fast skeletons occupied by genuine souls of powerful emotion.

But still, her being here doesn't change a damn thing. Things will still go as he had intended them to.

Taking a page out of a book from this world's magicians, he will supply some ammunition for his hulking bodyguard. With a small mutter, he chanted, "_Dona_." With the amount of magical energy needed only to create a single tooth, a stone wall sprouted out of the grass beside the Golem. Nodding at the guess of its size proven right, he told the construct in a breathless whisper, "Delay her."

With a soundless grunt and a smash of its rocky fists together, it shall do as instructed. Punching the rock wall beside it to pieces and creating large chunks of rock from the fragments, it grabbed the nearest one and lobbed it towards the small form that's sprinting towards to its master's location. Without seeing the results of its actions, it grabbed another boulder and sent it flying towards the assailant. Every effort was met with a nimble dash to the side, a jump over or a strike from a flail, and by the time the opponent's distance was now halved and the number of large rocks available were all used up, leaving only the small pebbles to spare, it was the moment for the Golem to be physical.

In the Order of the Serpent, the moment a Golem does something else besides punching things, throwing things and carrying things is the moment your Golem is considered an exceptional creation.

In Emurdol's case, his mud and rock Golems can reshape themselves into a round form and turn into a rolling ball of perpetual motion. A super weapon that killed an entire army by its lonesome, turning itself into a sort of 'Blood Golem' in the aftermath.

And that's what the rock-hurling Golem did, curling with its bulging arms and stubby legs tucked close to its massive chest, morphing its bodily proportions so it can become a fully symmetrical ball, and rolled down the hill; an unstoppable juggernaut out to crush her being.

The moment Rem had seen its actions, she only had a moment to gawk before she unleashed her flail towards the encroaching boulder. And to her shock, it _jumped _upwards to the air, an impossible phenomena performed by a moving clump of heavy soil as her strike missed its target and she would have been crushed had she not jumped out of the way. Feeling the ground quake from its landing and a bit of a shockwave hitting her form, she watched as the ball continued to roll and maneuvered back, going for another bowling assault.

She struck again, the flail careening towards its target with a promise of destruction: the boulder changed course to the right, the iron ball grazing its form as it was starting to come close. When the weapon suddenly flew back towards her, intending to collide with the golem, it jumped once again, repeating the same sequence as before; dodging the oncoming flail and about to crush her.

When it uncurled itself in midair with the intent of body slamming her, she nearly made a mistake of jumping to the side as she would have been crushed by its outstretched arm and instead cartwheeled backwards. Defying its size, the golem was quick to rise to its feet and barrel towards her with arms raised up to crush her dodging form. _Crush. Crush. Crush. Crush._ Its fists failed to eliminate its target, always evading its strikes with a nimble maneuver, leaving numerous craters in the grass.

The maid jumped high above the creation as it tried to catch her in the air in vain, and in the same motion with a sharp tug of her weapon hand, the flail was flying towards its back and solidly landed against its rocky frame, utterly destroying it.

Desiring not to relish in the victory, she quickly turned her eyes towards the man and found herself staring in shock once more. She was just in time to see him finish in siphoning some kind of black mist from one of the children into his mouth. When she turned her eyes to the child in question, she saw the young boy release a deep sigh, the entire body relaxing, almost as if he was taking his last breath.

The sight made her body react before she could consider the risk that she could hit one of the children with her flail, and sent it flying she did, aiming straight towards his sitting-up form. In otherworldly speeds, he dashed backwards in a distance away from the boy's form, evading the flail and simply stood there, watching her with his blazing green eyes.

Before she could dash into a charge, she suddenly fell to her knees without even meaning to, and when she looked at her legs, she found enlarged snake fangs stabbing into her thighs as well as both her wrists, making her lose grip on her weapon.

He took away her ability to move her legs and hands, and he had done so as soon as he evaded her strike, taking advantage of her single-minded focus on him to make sure she didn't see it coming. She watched as he dashed towards her in the same blurring speeds, a wavy knife in hand ready to claim her life, only to slide into a stop just 5 steps away from her.

He was sniffing the air, his brow furrowed in confusion before his searching eyes fell on her. Drawing close with a single step, his head craning towards her as he smelled the air around her. His eyes widened at what he discovered, his eyes taking a grim light as he drew back.

"You've been cursed, Maid." He told, his tone more like he was stating a fact instead of delivering bad news. "The curse that fell on the children has also fell on you. Expend your mana and the worst of it will kill you quicker than it should. Just by looking at you, I can tell that its debilitating effects has been eating your mana for who knows when, weakening you."

Her eyes widened at his statement. He was right. She had been feeling her body getting wearier than she thought possible for a demon body like hers, even running a short distance was tiring her faster, and her body temperature was also dropping as well without her knowing why and how. She barely won the battle against the skeletons who ambushed her in the forest, leaving her uniform tattered and marred with dirt. In a top condition, she could have defeated them with slight effort. She thought he had brought this condition on her, but what he did and what he said denied any credibility her assumptions had.

"But what have you been doing to those children? What was that black mist you ate? J-just what are you been trying to do?" Her voice was slowly rising into a shout, the frustration finally rising out and breaking free, "Rem doesn't understand! Everything's so confusing! Are you trying to save the children or are you not!? Are you trying to kill Rem or not!? Just what!? Why did you leave!? Just _what_!? Just _what_ are you trying to do!?"

His facial expressions didn't twitch the slightest at her outburst, patiently awaiting her to finish. And when he noticed that she was done, he answered her in the most matter-of-factly tone that implied that his current actions up to date since leaving were a natural outcome, "I am curing the children, and I am making sure you suffer for the things you've done to me. Why I left is none of your fucking business." He looked over his shoulder towards the children before turning to the forest ahead, opposite of where she come from. "You will remain here with the children. The men from the village will be arriving soon. Have them carry you along with the children back to the barrier. There is still a seventh child missing, I will find that little one myself."

What she heard made her throat dry up, her eyes wide in disbelief, "A seventh….child…?"

"By the time I come back to the village with the child, I will remove all the children's curses as well as yours. There's still time." Then she felt the mana in the air becoming tainted, the pale blue and murky green energy escaping out of his form like the plague. The hostility permeating out of him was thick enough that even blind men will easily realize that he will lash out at anyone close to him. It was enough to freeze her entire body even if the fangs on her thighs and wrists weren't there. "If I _ever _see you following me…if I do _not _see you in the village when I come back….I will _never _allow you your afterlife the moment your bloody head comes off!"

With the sound of a powerful snap that was as loud as a thunder that struck right next to her that forced her to wince and cover her ears, he was already gone as soon as she turned her eyes back to where he once was.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

This time, Mother was as furious as he was. She couldn't stand that Maid anymore, after the amount of times she held herself back for his sake only for it to be wasted. Her movements were rigid, gritty and full of implied rage, her usual grace nonexistent. Her every step was a stomp, all her 4 fists were clenched tightly beside his own as she walked instead of cross-armed behind her. It perfectly reflected his current mood.

It was a moment where they both would gladly delight themselves in violence, an act that would be the most invigorating and stress-relieving. That's why they are both thankful to the smell of beasts and the foreboding atmosphere getting worse as they ventured deeper into the forest. They are nearing the danger zone, the place where the witchbeasts are the most abundant.

Where there are demons, there will be blood. Where there is blood, there will be death. Where there is death, there will be a Priest of the Serpent who will reap the remains.

He reached up to take folds of his cloak and took it off his person. Opening the rift to the Void, he stashed his cloak there as well as his bag of bone dust and drew out his wand. In turn, Mother drew out her weapons as well. The krises holstered on his back held by the back arms and the sickles held by the front arms.

And there it was: right behind a tree that had fallen due to wind and rot, a little white leg was poking into view. The Seventh Child.

He nearly laughed at the obvious giveaway. It was a trap. Right in the middle of the clearing, with the tree lines dark enough to hide anything in its shadows and also bearing the smell of beasts? He might as well plague this damn place for its mediocrity.

Nonetheless, Mother sliced a bush in the way before he set foot into the clearing and calmly approached the unconscious little body. Like the other children, this child was cursed as well; weak, unawake, having short breathing.

He would have immediately secured the child's condition but one concern held him back:

None of the Spirits recognized her. They don't know her name. They don't know her family. And they certainly have _never _seen her before until just recently. And considering the suspicions he had back on that hill with the other children, he saw nothing but warning signs everywhere as he looked down on the braided-hair girl.

Kneeling down beside her little body, he sat her up and propped her against Mother's kneeling right foot before he took the nearest arm in hand, his hand holding the wand moving her sleeve back. Steeling himself, he bit on his tongue hard enough to bleed. When the amount of blood that leaked out was enough, he sneered, his impossibly white teeth stained with blood revealing, mixing with his saliva, and he _bit _down on the girl's forearm. With enough pressure, blood quickly seeped out as the skin was easily pierced. Despite being asleep or unconscious, the pained expression couldn't be held down from the little one's face.

And with the help of blood magic rarely ever used by the Order, the blood in his mouth seeped into the little one's open wounds and into her system. The special ailment that all Priests of the Serpent kept in their arsenal is now coursing through her body.

Then the rustle of a bush caught his ear.

Taking his jaws from the girl's arm, strings of saliva hanging from his teeth, he looked over his shoulder and beheld a sight that he's been waiting for.

A dog, but twice the size of a large one. A lean body, clawed paws built to rend and tear instead of traction, a slobbering mouth lined with oversized teeth that couldn't be hidden in its snout, numerous spikes lining its spine and joints as well as its tail, and the glowing red eyes that rivaled his own whenever he's in a mood for violence. There is no doubt that this mutt is a Witchbeast.

"Hello…_filth_….!" He greeted with a wide grin, a sadistic light shining from his visage as he rose up to full height. "You're smart enough to leave this little one here as _bait_, that makes you above most animals in regards to intelligence….however…" He drew out his favorite bone knife from the Void with his free left hand, the most dangerous arsenal in his person above every other weapon in his person besides the wand, the numerous foes he killed with it still staining the blade with its blood, rendering it black. "…will it be enough to save you from _me…_!?"

The fiend lowered its body to the ground, as if preparing for a pounce or a charge, unmoving and growling maliciously.

"What's wrong? Scared of a human with—"

The witchbeast vanished, disappearing into the darkness as if it was born from there.

"Hmph." This situation suddenly felt nostalgic when a black blur arrived from the corner of his vision. This is almost like when amateur Witch Hunters tried to ambush him.

He paid back the demon's courtesy of reminding him his fond memories by taking one step forward in a single spin—

—and scratched the hide of the mutt that pounced at him from the side with the bone knife. When the fiend was about to meet the ground, it instead crashed its head on the soil, tumbling head over heels before it lied on its side, convulsing and whining as the _toxins _received from the knife wound solidified the blood, locked up the muscles, ravaged the nerves and slowly shut down its organs.

He watched with a firm gaze, green eyes wide and glowing, unblinking at the sight of suffering in front of him, relishing in every sound and movement that indicated the amount of pain and agony he was responsible for. And when the fiend was no longer moving, Mother's foot rose up and squashed its head into paste, a flower of red on the grass, bone and brain matter scattering everywhere.

"_Exhilarating_." He hissed, his being shaking from the sight. Kneeling down, he waved his wand over the corpse and his eyes glowed bright at its discovery, his killing smirk widening even further. "_Mana_….so much _mana_….!" The witchbeast had twice the amount of mana than an ordinary animal. If he was to reanimate its bones…..

"_Yeeesss_….!" He grabbed a large handful of its hide and dragged it with him as he went back to the child's form—

—and he was greeted with the sight of many glowing red eyes in the darkness of the forest.

There were too many to count, virtually endless. The scent of beasts in the air is even fouler than before. He could feel the numerous jaws slobbering. He could feel their hunger. Their lust for blood. Their desire to kill. The tension in their bodies for the incoming violence. He could feel every lick of their being.

It was too much….!

"**HAaaaaaaaghhh!‼**" Without warning, he opened his mouth wide and screamed a demonic howl, driven by the prospect of violence, of flesh about to be torn apart and bones about to be shattered. He gave them the prompt to attack and they responded with gusto, jaws and claws stretched out to tear him apart as they advanced on him.

For their efforts, a headless witchbeast was thrown to the head of their charge. As the shock of its death was amplified by necromantic magic, the body took no time to start bulging, boiling—

**POP!**

—with a thunderous pop, the corpse exploded with the force of a miniature volcano, bone fragments proving to be the most lethal shrapnel as it pierced through every hide in its range like pebbles to wet paper. The ones closest to the corpse died instantly, the ones further away either lost a limb or had a hole in its body, bleeding profusely. With a wild grin of malicious delight, he tugged at the bones of the fallen demons and forced them out of their shells of flesh in a burst of viscera and blood, canine bones reshaping into spears before they flew, skewering the surviving mutts into a pin-cushion.

It was so quick, in the span of 3 seconds, all life in front of him was snuffed out. A pop, a cacophony of pained howls, and then silence.

"Hehehehe….hehehehehe…"

His laughter couldn't be contained. The sight in front of him. The familiar sight before his eyes. It was _Paradise_ itself. It was _beautiful_.

Blood. Guts. Organs. Violence. Death. Murder. Evisceration. Torture. Suffering. Agony! Death! Death! Death! DEATH! SWEET DEATH!

"Hehehehahahahahaha…..HAHAHAHAHAHA….!"

Yes! This is it! _This _is where the Necromagi thrived! _This _is where the Necromagi are at their strongest! _This _is where the Priests of the Serpent considers their playground!

"**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA‼!**"

The night is ripe with violence, and a lot more is ready for the picking. With so many bodies, so many souls, so much mana…..and so little time.

His mad revelry is set to a stop, Emotion Suppression at play. The child must be taken to the village. Once there, devour the curses of the other little ones, _including _the maid's, then he can head back in, freely bask in all visceral pleasure in wild abandon and without consequence. Live or die? That's up to the fun of it. The more he kills, the better it gets.

"Mother, take her." She quickly complied, walking backwards to the girl's lying form behind him and placing her in a piggyback position, one pair of arms hugging her against his back while another holds on to her thighs. In this scenario, Mother's physical combat expertise will be disabled. With countless monsters on their way to him as reported by the Spirits, he won't be able to take them all on with explosive corpses and his knife alone.

Time for a call to arms.

Raising his wand above his head, with the skull ornament at the top glowing brightly green, he waved it in a halo, his will surging into every dead body present. The veil separating the Spectral Realm and the Living Realm spread open, he beckoned all the fighting Spirits and restless Souls willing to fight for his cause. Finding more than a bountiful number of them, he transferred their beings into the available frames nearby.

Now that he doesn't have to make the frames, this makes things _so _much easier.

The bodies swelled, sounds of snapping bones and churning flesh filling the night air. In a burst of blood and guts, the shells of flesh exploded outwards, revealing the horrific and blood-covered bones that swirled about, relocating, reshaping, and reforming in every way imaginable until, at last, they settled in place and were brought to unlife.

From the corpses of witchbeasts, he managed to conjure 5 skeletal warriors, complete with bone swords, axes and shields; 4 skeletal prowlers, bearing long serrated claws in place of hands, spikes for feet and dagger-like smiles; 2 skeletal magi of fire and ice, red and blue mana coating 2 pairs of hands, respectively; and 1 unarmed skeleton, bearing the strength of 20 men.

As an extra, he created 2 Mud Golems on either side of him.

With a small army of 14, equal to the might of 60 men, this is more than enough to cover an issue where Mother's hands are full.

With a circular formation around him, he snapped the fingers holding the wand and gave them a command in this task. "March…and kill." 2 pairs of earthen fists smashing together and 12 skeletal jaws making a sharp biting snap, they marched on with their master's pace, eagerly awaiting their chance for violence.

In a jogging pace, he and his entourage headed back to the village. Instead of the path he originally took, he'll take the quicker route back. A straight line through the forest until they reach the barrier. The danger on the way won't be a problem. He'll leave a trail of bodies with each monster that dares faces him.

"Starting with you." With a point of his finger, the skeleton with the axe and shield charged the lone witchbeast with a shield bash, the construct nearly losing its footing from the collision before righting itself and driving the axe straight to the exposed back. The howl of pain it made indicated that its spinal column had likely shattered, but the skeleton continued to hack at its body, blood and gore spurting in each strike. Even when the fiend was dead, the brutal punishment didn't stop. By the time the circular formation was close, the soldier returned to its place at the front, leaving behind a nearly-halved corpse of a devil dog.

As he walked over the two halves, the wand in his right hand glowed and a skeletal prowler was born from it. "Stand guard and kill on sight." The snap of its dagger-like teeth indicated its affirmative to obey. 2 seconds later, the sound of a canine body being shredded in half erupted behind him.

The golem on his right took the next initiative, slamming its shoulder against a tree and felling it on top of 2 incoming dogs. Crushed and pinned but still alive, the hulking humanoid raised its rocky arms high and smashed the fallen tree even further on their bodies. The mess of exposed fractures and blood is all that's left of them. Happened to be lagging behind, it morphed into a ball and caught up to the formation, only to veer to another direction as a pack is on its way towards its master.

The violence between leather and stone occurring from the right, he pointed to the left and 2 prowlers pounced off into the direction. The unarmed skeleton who was at the back quickly whirled around and punched a witchbeast right in its snout, instantly rendering it without a lower jaw and dead. The other fiend gnawing on its forearm received a reciprocal courtesy: head, eyes and ears cleanly bitten off. The 2 assaulting prowlers returned to their formation with pieces of witchbeast bodies lodged in their bloody claws while their sharp teeth still had demon hide stuck in them.

The pair of skeletal magi did what they did best, shooting a spell of fire or ice at the right targets, specifically crafty ones who had the gall to take advantage of the distraction to attack their Master. Any attempts of the like ends with a head scorched into a skull or a frozen body part shattering to pieces. A demon manages to dodge a bolt of fire, its head is instead grabbed, skin and hide melted or roasted before its neck is snapped. Another had its heart pierced with an accurate shot from an icicle, a third having its head incased in ice before dying of suffocation.

The warriors fought with a ferocity that disregarded safety and tactics that befitted a living soldier. Impaling, hacking, stabbing, biting, kicking, scratching, bashing, smashing, chopping, eviscerating, pulverizing, thrashing; every attack possible is used in wild abandon. A loss of a limb or a head is not even a detriment. If a weapon is lost, they'll use their ribs as makeshift daggers. If left unarmed, they'll sink their hands into the innards of one of the demons, ripping out the organs in a vicious extraction. When one fiend remained, they mobbed on the unfortunate devil dog and tore its limbs apart from its body.

A single prowler took ahead, executing a high-jump and utilizing its staked feet as spears, impaling a devil dog through its eye and mouth, exiting through its rear. Another leapt over its occupied comrade, tackling the second witchbeast to the ground and taking a vicious bite out of the neck, windpipe and large amounts of meat gone. A third prowler met two, stabbing its claws deep into their chests and piercing both hearts. Losing both its arms in its efforts and its unlife from the head-butt of a fifth demon, its time of service has met its last.

The creator himself had no trouble even if one manages to come close. His bone knife left every assailant into a convulsing mess. Every dead body he passed by became ammunition for the numerable short spears of bone revolving around him. And every spare amount of bones is another soldier set into the battlefield from the endless roster of restless spirits. Every new creation is left with the same orders, "Stand guard and kill", "Hunt down the witchbeasts", "Kill on sight", "Kill cleanly" and "Survive and kill".

A trail of skeletons he left behind with every dog killed. He never expects them to last on their own but if one thing is consistent about his creations, they always take their enemies down with them. A pile of bones in the center of a mass grave. They're made from the hands of a Necromagus who played often with bones instead of bodies, after all.

After many minutes of jogging, the barrier is seen just up ahead. Looking around him and his constructs, his band of skeletons reduced to 7, consisting of 2 magi, 3 warriors, 1 prowler and the bruiser, and his golems being resilient survivors. Each one is as bloody as the other, some carrying the viscera of their kills, their hands completely red, including the magi, but compared to everything else, the hulks of soil are the only ones who do not seem like they have sustained any damage. He's the only one lacking any blood and guts on his person, ignoring the blood on Mother's sabatons and greaves.

Quickening his steps into a run, his entourage suddenly sliding to a stop as he went past their shortened circle, he was in the village in no time. The people there were indeed shocked by his appearance, with the bones showing on his chest as well as his legs and having more than 2 hands.

It feels nostalgic.

"Eyes down!" They flinched at his sudden bark, but he ignored them and focused his eyes on the children lying on the ground, attended by either guardian or parent. "The children are still suffering! Pay attention to them instead of me! Also, there is another child with me. Step aside." Roughly shoving aside whoever failed to comply, Mother set down the child on the ground, then drew the kris out. "The children are cursed. I'm going to get rid of it. I want all of you to stand back." Not waiting for their compliance, Mother drew a cut on the back of the hand and devoured the mist that came out.

By the time he was done, he felt the nausea instantaneously, throwing his head back and facing away from the child's form. Fortunately, he held on to his stomach contents.

"H-hey, are you alright?"

A villager showing concern? That's _new_. They likely didn't know how to react to a man wearing someone's bones, given that the Order of the Serpent didn't exist in this world.

"The curse. Did you get rid of the curse?" Someone asked hopefully.

"Yes." He answered, Mother quickly rising up to her feet and went to the next child. "I'll be getting rid of the next one."

"Please hurry! Please help my son!" A woman hurried, urging him to the plump boy. "No matter what I do, he won't wake up!"

"Move aside." As the woman moved out of the way, he didn't bother looking for the source of the bite and quickly ate the mist as soon as Mother opened a slit wound on the hand. In the aftermath, he nearly lost his innards once again. His mouth was salivating more than usual.

Hacking them in his mouth and spitting it out, he moved to the next one—

There was no curse. One of the little one's he didn't attend on the hill is suddenly _healthy_, the breathing and facial expression even. The curse that should've been there was gone. How?

"Hrr." He shook his head. If the curse is gone, then good. He'll proceed to the next one. This makes things easy. Using his nose to pick out the ones with the curse, he found the shirtless boy to be the only one with a curse. Deciding not to question how the rest of the children are cured except him, he ate the curse afflicting the child. This time, he couldn't hold down his vomit. Surprisingly, there was _blood_ in the retches even as they melted into the soil.

_Great._

"That should be all of them." He informed as he spat out the blood remaining in his mouth, his feet straight while his upper body slouched, still trying to calm his aching innards. "The children are now cured."

"B-but there's still more you didn't attend."

"They have no curse." He replied, turning his eyes to the children. Each one looked better than their recent condition. But they still need care. The curse still took away most of their health. "Their curses were already gone." Rising to his feet and wiping his mouth, he finished, "Take them somewhere to comfortably sleep in and call for a healer. Their conditions need tending to." Then he turned to leave, intending to return to the violence.

"Good sir." He stopped upon being called, turning his eyes to the mother of the plump child, who was bowing her head gratefully. "Thank you so much."

"I am grateful too." A burly man placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. "You saved my son."

"Me too." "Thank you." "Thank you, stranger." "My wife and I are very thankful."

The villagers crowded him and overwhelmed him with their thanks, patting his shoulders, back and shaking his other hands. Fighting himself from feeling the discomfort of all these gratitude that he never gets to experience often, he raised a different concern. "The Maid?" They looked at him in confusion. "The blue-haired maid. Rem. Where's Rem?"

"Lady Rem?" A youth wielding a staff parroted, "She still hasn't come back."

His eyes held their grimace, but the outrage inside _boiled _at what he heard, "What do you mean she _hasn't_ _come back_?"

A man with a sword on his waist spoke up next, "We tried to bring her back with us but she refused. She said she was going to look for you. I don't know what she was thinking. Even though she healed her own wounds, I don't think she should go running around like that."

He was already running back towards the forest before the man even finished, and the villagers took too long to realize that his form was no longer in front of them, only a spot of ground being surrounded by them.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

_That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid! That fucking maid!_

He should've known! He should've fucking known! That maid's head is full of nothing but shit! She's actually the _dumbest _living existence in this world! A _waste _of space, air and _life _itself!

Ugh! He should've killed her sooner! He should've killed her right then and there! He should've beheaded her when he had the chance!

A witchbeast is running towards him.

"**GET OUT OF THE WAY!**" With a sidestep and a swing of the sickle Mother held, its head was flying off while its body landed with a thick thud on the soil.

His body's already exhuming toxins, killing every living thing it touches from plants to animals. The ones pursuing him have already choked on their own blood. In his running speed that could nearly outrun a horse, this allowed him to outpace the chasing witchbeasts and killed them in the process, breathing the fumes he left behind. The ones in front of him are to be handled with a blade.

When he saw the top of the wand glowing without his will, he heard _them_.

_{Leave her.}_

_{She's a lost cause, boy.}_

_{She tried to kill you. Why are you trying to get her back?}_

_{After all the things she tried to do to you, you're still risking your life to get her back?}_

_{Let her die. If you do this, you'll only regret it!}_

"**SHUT UP! SHUT UP!**" Of all times, why did _they _have to start speaking **now**!? They were tightlipped when he was forced into this world and _now _they're running their thoughts off!? "**WE'RE FINDING HER AND THAT'S FINAL!**"

_{Is that really what you want?}_

_{You're not even doing this according to your emotions. You're still mad at her.}_

_{You want to kill her. Yet your thoughts are telling me you plan to _save _her. Why?}_

_{Tell us, boy. Are you trying to be a hero again?}_

_{Is that what's happening?}_

"**I SAID SHUT UP!**" In his rage, when an entire pack of demons were running towards him, numerous pillars of bones rose up from the soil and impaled them from below. As fast as a single second, there were 10 fiends slowly sliding down on the stakes from above like a pig on a spit. Reveling in their deaths and their twitching forms, his growls were barely a whisper like he intended. "**When I find that maid….! If she's dead, I will claim her soul. If she's alive, I will give her a hell worse than dying…! Do not even assume such things yourself! You're not the ones suffering the hell I went through!**"

_{You're wrong.}_

_{Yes. Since the day you imprisoned us, your thoughts have become our thoughts.}_

_{Your emotions are our emotions.}_

_{And in turn, your sufferings are our sufferings.}_

_{All of us have lived inside your wand long enough to know _how _you think.}_

"**Shut up and go back to sleep!**" He shoved the wand back to his bone belt, shutting off the noxious air from blowing out of him anymore and quickly dashed through a large number of fiends, leaving them convulsing on the ground due to the tiny scratches on their hide thanks to his poisonous dagger of bone. "**That maid's going to **_**suffer **_**when I find her!**"

_{Fair enough.}_

_{If you say so then I won't ask any more questions.}_

_{I'll believe that. Make her know suffering to its limits.}_

_{But do hold restraint. Your Mother wants a turn too.}_

_{Yes. It'd be boring if you killed her so quickly without arriving to the main course of your corporal punishment.}_

Mother's every movement almost turning into a blur in the speeds she was maintaining, from the swing of her legs that covered 7 meters in every step to the swings of her 4 arms that felled every demon at arm's reach, she left dust, blood and countless bodies behind her. When she retraced her steps according to the trail of corpses from before, the sound of chains as well as the sound of bones being pulverized was slowly getting nearer.

And he witnessed the Maid herself being surrounded on all sides, not by the witchbeasts but by the skeletons he told to stay behind and kill everything they see. All the instructions they took was purely on the idea of seeing every living thing as an enemy, and that includes _any _living thing. The maid was one of them, therefore she became their target.

That's why he told her to go back. She'll be killed by his constructs if she followed.

But she did anyway.

And now look at her: scratched, scorched, bruised, bleeding and exhausted, not to mention that she was still _cursed_. Because of her stupidity, she's going to die from it.

If there's one thing he preferred in regards to people's stupidity: it's that people don't die from it, he _kills _them for it.

"**STOP!**"

As sudden as the command came out of his mouth, the constructs stopped moving, standing perfectly still like statues. The maid's weapon felled 2 skeletons before her mind realized that her supposed 'enemies' wasn't wailing on her anymore. While she looked around her in confusion, he noticed other parts of her current state: weakened, her eyes drooping, her breathing running short and her body shivering as if cold.

The curse is acting up on her. Oh, he_ warned_ her. He _fucking _warned her. Just what the _fuck _is wrong with this stupid bitch!?

"I told you….." His voice may have stopped growling but the stone cold layer on his tone indicated his utmost displeasure for her presence. "….I _warned _you, Maid…"

Her eyes quickly snapped to him as soon as he started talking, and the shock in her eyes couldn't be anymore infuriating. Was it really surprising for him to be here?

"….I warned you from following me…." Mother passed the sickle to his right hand. At the same time, his eyes burned bright as he stomped towards her, the mana starting to become tainted in his presence, "…You honestly don't know **HOW TO LISTEN!**"

Before a flail could fly and his form could be propelled towards her, a churning sound interrupted the confrontation. The sound of earth moving, mixing, grinding—it was coming closer. Turning their attention to the source of the sound, they saw it: a small puppy with a bald spot on its head, its miniature frame glowing yellow while surrounded by witchbeasts bigger than it. Its out-of-place existence is an immediate indication that this creature is not what it seems and it's not like any fiend he's killed.

Before any sort of action was taken, trees, soil, mud, rock, and innumerable plantlife were swept along in a torrent of earth, descending on both their positions, decimating the idle skeletons in the way.

He jumped out of the way, well away from the assault. But the maid didn't, the curse hampering her reaction time, and she was launched into the dark sky.

Her landing back to the ground was solid, her blood splattered the forest floors upon impact and the way her body flailed in the air indicated that she was beyond saving.

_{Too late.}__  
_{Too late.}_  
_{Too late.}_  
_{Too late.}_  
_{Too late.}__

The Sinful Spirits in his wand were instantly proven wrong.

He felt the atmosphere become even chillier, colder than what mortals would feel when he touches them barehanded. Even the surviving skeletons and the gathering witchbeasts felt it, looking around them apprehensively at who could herald such an ominous air.

He knew where it was coming from, and his eyes widened in shock.

The maid was rising to her feet, every movement indicating neither injury nor pain despite her battered state—no, her wounds have closed. The damages she took from his skeletons and the earthen assault, _gone_.

And as he watched the entire spectacle proceed, when the maid was turning her head towards the witchbeasts, he saw a _very _familiar sight from the side of her blood-splattered face.

A smile of sadistic ecstasy.

He didn't only saw himself from it, he saw the hellspawn he felled back in his world, particularly when they were slaughtering a village he was too late to save. The sick disgusting desire to revel in violence, whether in the midst of combat or not.

"Ha-ha...hahahahaha…." A glowing horn sprouted from her forehead.

The Spirits had warned him of _what _kind of existence the Maid alongside her sister was. Now he's seeing it for himself.

"She's a demon…." He whispered in dumbstruck awe.

Then hell itself broke loose.

Faster than he thought possible, she charged the petrified witchbeasts and rendered one body into a bloody mush under her foot. When its comrades realized the sudden danger in front of them, they charged the maid with claws and fangs bare, only to collide with the stomped dog's body and fall to the attack of a fast oncoming flail, killing them.

Her every movement, her fury, her bloodlust, her every sway, her screams and cackles—it was all too _familiar_. Refined, yet wild. Graceful, yet uncontrolled. Blood. Bodies. Entrails. Limbs. Heads. They were flying everywhere in her dance of death. The more the witchbeasts charged her, the ring of bodies around her became even more apparent.

It took him a moment to realize that he had been smiling.

Was he _enjoying _her enact slaughter? Was he _ecstatic_ at the vigorous reaping of lives in front of him?

He couldn't bring himself to answer them as a witchbeast passed right by him, ignoring him as he stood in front of a tree and focused on the far more dangerous threat. Even his skeletons were given the same treatment, ignored. Then he realized that the number of fiends entering the fray were nigh-unlimited. There was no end to them. Glowing red eyes beyond count in the darkness.

Gritting his teeth, morphing his manic smile into a growl, he ordered the frozen skeletons, "_Attack_! Kill the witchbeasts! Them alone!"

A bruiser grabbed a passing hellhound's tail and swung its whole body to a tree trunk, breaking its spine. A trio of prowlers pounced at an equal number of witchbeasts in front of them, claw for claw and tooth for tooth. Every magi placed their hands together and emitted a spell that struck on all sides, burning, freezing, poisoning, and electrocuting any who were caught in their range. All warriors threw themselves into the group with matching ferocity, dead-set on murdering every hellhound they see.

For his part, he drew knife and wand before Mother hooked a running-by witchbeast beside him with a sickle and buried a kris into its eye. Another about to pounce on him is impaled from a bone stake rising from the ground. A whirling motion of his body rendered 5 attacking beasts into chopped pieces, their blood and guts staining his body but unseen from the light-eating robes. Krises spinning in Mother's back hands with unnatural speeds, a lower jaw was removed before a left swing dismembered another's tail. A maw bit into the right ankle but a sickle quickly beheaded the offending beast and a kris blocked a pair of jaws from sinking into his exposed neck before a second sickle bisected the entire body. Skirting around the towering stake with a body lodged at its tip, 6 more sprouted out of the ground to impale an entire pack, leaving their writhing bodies in the air as ornaments.

Despite the violence around him and the numerable amount of bodies around him, he kept his revelry from making him enjoy the moment while he calculated every movement of every enemy coming for him. The potential wildcard that was the maid right nearby posed a threat several times greater than the hellhounds around them, so he kept a very wary eye on her.

Then he felt the shift of mana, drawing to a single point. And this time, it wasn't the maid's horn doing it, as he realized upon its appearance. Following the direction of their movement, it was heading towards the small dog instead. It was casting another spell.

The maid seemed to have sensed it as well, throwing the iron ball high—and it left her open.

The consequence struck her as fast as she did it, the witchbeasts pouncing on her unguarded form and pinning her on the ground, jaws clamping down on her—

"_**WUUAAAAAARRGGHHH!‼!**_" Without even thinking, he and Mother went full ballistic towards the pack mauling her, black blades and shining steel rendering every hellhound in reach to bloody pieces. His magic went wild as well, taking every piece of bone in the area flying out of their shells of flesh and turning into lethal projectiles that pierced through every hide as they flew in all directions.

The numbers weren't dropping. Everything was falling into chaos. He was in a balanced state of mind since he started joining in the fight, but the sight of her being helplessly savaged destroyed his composure. It triggered something within him. Something painful and wrong, something he's went through or seen before and didn't want to experience again. It didn't push him to ecstasy, it brought him to the edge of hysterical rage, bordering to the point of insanity.

He disregarded finesse. Form and control was gone. His mouth was roaring like a beast, rivaling the bestial adversaries. He was mindlessly utilizing every killing tool in hand into everything in sight, his bone knife and glowing right hand felling one witchbeast after another—it was making him out of sync with Mother's movements.

To be fully unified, he and Mother must be of one mind, body and soul. Paraphrased in the teachings of the Order of the Serpent and enforced by them with good reason, 'Control your Emotions'. Maintaining his composure in every battle. That's how he always maintain his victory over his enemies, how his spells always ended up working for him instead of against him. The times where a dreaded disorganization fell upon them both because of losing his tranquility, it nearly killed him, _every time_.

And this time's no different:

His body's movements clashing against Mother's own, numerable bite wounds have landed on him thanks to the numerous openings on his impenetrable defense due to their lack of unity. His shoulder, through the gaps of his bone armor, his upper arms, they received a shred or a bite….

…and eventually, a single witchbeast exploited the one in a million opening: his _neck_.

The half-a-second it took for Mother to swing her sickle towards the beast's neck as the momentum of the beast threw him to his back, his throat had already lost most of its flesh, revealing the windpipe and shredded esophagus amongst the mutilated flesh spilling blood.

The hook points of the 2 sickles pried the dismembered head's mouth open, the fangs removed from his neck without any unnecessary aggravations and the blood immediately poured out.

In the midst of his panic and shock, he subconsciously summoned a bone wall around him, impaling any unfortunate witchbeast nearby with its numerous protrusions of sharp bone and caging him protectively from any assailant, but not for long. Mother quickly opened her chest and let him fall on the floor before she pressed her palms against his opened throat, which did little to stop the overflow of his lifeblood. But he was fortunately trained in the necessary arts of the Order in case something like this happens: he manipulated the flow of his blood from forcing themselves out of the opening, effectively stopping the bleeding and extracting the liquid clogging his oxygen and filling his lungs.

He is left with a gruesome wound on his neck that should be bleeding but the flow of blood to his brain was consequently cut off. He can still breathe but he won't last long enough before his consciousness gives away, inevitably cutting off the activated blood magic and making him bleed again. The protective barrier of bones cannot stop the witchbeasts from climbing over. And while Mother could effectively fight without him, her power is halved unless he merges with her. She won't survive once she's overpowered by numbers, even with her immense strength and constitution built of stone troll bones.

Then a howl of pain erupted from the top of the bone wall, the high-pitched shrill piercing through the ringing in his head as he tried to hold back the blood from going out of him. The growls that were coming from behind the barriers were being silenced, preceded by a blunt blow towards a body of flesh.

"No. No! Nonononono! Not like this! Not like this!" The voice came from right above him.

However the hell did the Maid managed to stand back up, have her numerous injuries healed and be inside the walls of bone with him, looking over him distressfully, he did not waste the opportunity as soon as he opened his eyes and saw her bloodied face in front of him.

He suddenly sat back up and threw his arms around her, tightly securing herself to him. Mother, knowing what she needs to do, quickly slipped in and secured him to her chest in turn before she holstered her krises, flicking the blood off beforehand and throwing the sickles to the void he opened, and leapt over the walls of ivory.

All 6 metal limbs moved in blurs of great speeds as she carried her son and the maid over to the safety of the village. Crashing through plant life left their forms grazed, injuries of the littlest scale adding to the pile, but it was a necessary sacrifice. Mother made sure her limbs were fully extended as she rushed to reach the other side of the protective barrier, never letting her son's hanging head hit the ground.

And when the village was just a meter away, she literally jumped, arcing at a height of 6 feet before 3 entities rolled on the dirt, surprising the present villagers who happened to be nearby and watched a 4-armed suit of armor made out of bones carry 2 bodies, 1 being legless and wearing robes that seemed to eat light.

The maid was quick to rise to her feet and hurry to the pale man's form lying sideways. Frantically pushing him to lie face up, she placed her glowing hands on his open throat. "Please be alright, please be alright, please be alright!" She kept repeating it, a mantra she hoped could save him.

The process was slow, the skin and tissue slowly closing as if time was being rewound. A whole minute it took for his wounds to become a scar. And when it was done, his eyes, full of nothing but unadulterated malice that burned green so brightly it could have passed for a lamp, lost to emotion and devoid of reasoning, shot open and suddenly had her pinned down on the ground, bone-crushing grips on both her shoulders and growling just like a beast.

His mouth gaped wide open, all of his teeth suddenly sharp, his mouth red and bloody, stained from the blood he coughed due to his neck wound, dripping on her face. The battle left her battered, her strength diminished, and thanks to the relief from the struggle of battle, she is ultimately exhausted. And without her horn counteracting the curse, its effects are immediately attacking her with freezing temperatures and debilitation. She can't do anything to fight back anymore. Her mana was being drained, from the curse and from the bottomless pool of green in his burning eyes devouring her, drinking her, absorbing what was left of her strength and life force...

….and the curse on her person was being eaten alongside it, flowing into his open mouth in the form of a black mist that was seeping out of the bite wound she received on her calf from the small dog when she went shopping hours ago, the same one who struck her with that river of earth and soil. She still felt weak and cold, but she could feel its influence going away, the spectral disease enshrouding her whole body congregating to a single point, her once bitten calf. When the last of it was gone, the pale man promptly collapsed on top of her, her crushed shoulders relieved from his grip.

Using what's left of her strength, she pushed the body of her and to the side, but not without gentleness. His condition was somewhat stable, breathing and having a heartbeat, both in steady rhythms. But his already-pale skin had gotten whiter, made apparent under the light of the glaring moon. As she was about to carry him to the Mansion, or at least a nearby house so he could lie down comfortably, despite her current state, something made her freeze.

It was a wavy knife held by a clawed, metallic hand, placed against her throat. A second blade's point was aimed at the side of her neck, held by a second hand. A third and fourth arm held her in place, one on the top of her head and one at the space between her shoulder and neck. They weren't constricting or crushing, but she felt _imprisoned _by the pressure exhuming out of the entity behind her_._

**"Warned you."**

And to her surprise, an eldritch voice spoke out. It was a monstrous sound, as if multiple noises were strung together, mixed in incomprehensible ways that it managed to become a coherent sentence. It came from nowhere and yet everywhere at the same time.

She turned to the lying form in front of her.

And she saw a distinct but unfamiliar shade of green in the eyes that distinctly did _not_ belong to the man named Emurdol Viandegroc as he was suddenly awake, staring back at her widened blue orbs.

His mouth wasn't moving, but she couldn't think of any other person who could manage something like this after witnessing his actions for the past several days.

**"Not a threat he is, and you have ignored. No choice he left abode. Killed you if he did not. You discord Manor. You shatter unity inside. Leaves he to save unity. Leaves he to save you. And you **_**wasted **_**his leave."**

She felt the enmity from the one holding her despite not being made of flesh. Because they weren't made of flesh, the hands didn't shake from holding down the urge to lash out, but Rem felt the frame's burning want to do so. **"Sacrifice-ed he. Desires for togetherness he, but threw away. Happiness he threw away. All for **_**your **_**sake. Did not ask he for trust, but he yet wanted trust, **_**especially**_** Dear Maid. **_**And now you force-ed him. Force-ed to risk life by going back into beast forest. Save you**_**, endanger he.**_**Obeyed had you, **_**_trusted_**_** had you only this **_**_once_**_**, he wouldn't have sacrifice-ed**__**.**_**"**

His face was blank, even the unearthly diction was very flat and even, but there was something behind it all that Rem could see and would never mistake for anything else: Maternal rage. An indignance a parent has for their child, an ire born from a wrong done to their beloved offspring. And every word of cold admonishment were like a million knives stabbing into her gut and heart. She remembered that fiery night. She remembered the organ that should have stayed firmly planted to her only family's forehead tumbling in the air as it was severed from a vicious cut. And she remembered what she thought that night, what she felt upon seeing it.

**"…Mother should not have trusted you, **_**Demon**_**."** The last word carried the only color of emotion. It was nothing but pure venom. A sentiment of pure spite and hatred. **"My son shouldn't have trusted you."**

She _never_ changed.

Not. One. Bit.

It was at this moment that she realized that her eyes were already tearing, flowing down to her cheeks.

**"For my son."** The distinct eyes of green then closed and his head turned away, as if to spare him from the sight of the inevitable retribution.

The hand on her shoulder relocated to hold her lower jaw in a crushing grip, as if preparing to twist her neck.

The knives began to dig into her neck, drawing blood.

And then—


	9. Final Service

The first thing he did once he knew that he was conscious was to drink, eat, devour and consume. Not physical sustenance but mana, draining from the atmosphere with his gaping mouth, widened eyes, open hands and the light-eating robes he wore, passing the energy it collected to his core. He greedily inhaled them all.

Unlike all living things, Priests of the Serpent cannot regenerate their mana. Without a sustainable amount, they would fall victim to lethargy that could last a lifetime and eventually death. Their physical structure greatly differs from the norm despite the fact that they're human, especially when their bodies were continually operated or experimented on by their own hands. It stands to the reason why they know how to siphon mana at an early age. Babes would be fed mana by their parents, and when they come of age, they will be taught to siphon mana on their own, and eventually it becomes as routinely as a daily meal.

And now, he's starved to the point of mania. His excursion last night drained more than most of his energy, adding that with the curses on his person that ate more than most of it, _and _including the fact that he used up nearly all of it to keep his blood from seeping out of his gaping throat, he's nothing short of a thirsty man in the desert thrown into a pool of cold spring water. Except the amount of water in the pool was below half, signifying that he's in someplace confined like a house instead of the open. Nevertheless, he swam, bathed, and drank in it.

When he drained it to the brim and began refilling itself, he was left breathing heavily as his rationality and cognitive abilities returned to him. Opening his eyes, the sanity in them clear and bright, he found a wooden ceiling, not like the decorated cement of the quarters he left behind.

_Well, that's new. _"….." He remarked, and held back the feeling of loss the sooner he didn't hear a single octave come out of him.

He didn't want to believe it, he refused to acknowledge it, but it was actually true. There was no way of denying it.

He can perfectly remember his throat being ripped out. Though it had likely healed, given that he could still breathe, but his voice….

Fighting back his tears and the shock of its loss, his abilities of Emotion Suppression used to a heavy extent that it could drain his mental energy, he raised his skeleton hand up, the ivory free of dirt and grime from the soil in his greaves, pristine as the day he found it attached to his hand.

Then 2 metal hands, dark steel fingers ending in claws held his own tenderly. Even with his physical senses on that hand gone, the warmth never fails to be passed on to him. He brought the studded knuckles to his forehead, seeking comfort from the contact alone.

_Mother. _"..." He whispered, almost pitifully. A second left hand is placed on his head, stroking his white locks consolingly. Turning his eyes to the side, he saw her frame seated to a chair beside the bed. The battles from last night was still evident on her form, witchbeast blood stained the bones and steel as well as teeth marks.

_You really do not break so easily…..like me….how am I still _alive_?_

The question leaned more to the 'why' than 'how'.

He noticed a strange shift in the rhythm of Mother's headpats. Before he could question it, Mother had her second right hand gesturing to a pillar close to the foot of the bed. His brow raised slightly at the sight of the dear girl Emilia seated on a chair, recognizable white hair and garments and all. She's fast asleep, however, leaning against the backrest and the pillar next to her to stay upright.

Raising his left hand up, the sleeves falling down to reveal his pale upper arm that wasn't protected by his grieves, there were bite scars lining certain areas as well as healed shreds. They weren't shallow wounds, last he remembered. He touched his neck and definitely felt the large ugly scar there. To have them closed overnight means…

He sighed deeply. _She saved my life yet again. _He was tempted to laugh at how familiar this situation felt, but the disappointment was stronger than the last time he woke up like this that he couldn't bring himself to. Despite acquiring the will to live, he still hoped he had died last night. And now that drive is slowly dwindling because of this new loss.

He sighed mournfully, fighting back his pessimism just for the sake of being level-headed. This despair can't help him in any way. It happened, so he must deal with it. For now, he must regard on what's in front of him. And what's in front of him is a sleeping half-elf, who likely exhausted herself in healing him.

He sighed. _I wonder if this puts me on her debt_.

"Not exactly." He wasn't surprised to hear that androgynous voice coming out of nowhere. Turning his eyes to the dear girl's nape, he found the cat's face peeking out of it. "It's more like you did the deed first and Lia paid it back as soon as she could so no debts for now."

He waited for Puck to sit on his chest before he said his greetings in his thoughts. _[Hello, Puck.]_

"Hey. Good morning, Emurdol." He waved his paw, "Heard that you suddenly ran off last night."

He sighed tiredly, looking into space, _[I didn't have a choice.] _He took Puck in his left hand and tried to sit up, defying the painful aches that erupted on his body, especially around his arms. Mother quickly assisted him, pushing him upright so he can shift backwards against the wall. _[My presence is bound to cause discord, and Rem is certain to cause it.]_

"Huh. I thought you saw the attack coming and went out to stop it without warning anybody."

He shook his head, silver swishing in waves. _[Just a damn coincidence. I had to do it. The worst possible outcome would have caused an uproar and damaged Emilia's name even further.]_

"Then that makes me thankful once again." He felt Puck's paws pat his hand twice. "Hate to sound insensitive but that apparently made you lose something like last time, didn't it?"

His reaction was immediate as this fay decided to mention it out of fucking nowhere. He slammed the back of his head against the wall, and it was hard enough to create a crack on the single plank of wood that comprised the wall. And then he slammed it again the second time. A third. Fourth. Each one getting stronger than the last, the wood beginning to shatter and break. And when the wood had snapped in two, deadly protrusions sticking out of each half, Mother's 4 hands caught his head before he did anymore self-harm, forcing him away from the wall and pushing his face towards the sheets until he gave up, realizing that he could not possibly beat his own creation in a physical contest.

The stiff silence of the room contained the small sniffles and the hitch of his breath, muffled by the coverings that was slowly gaining a shade of red, his tears of blood dampening it.

First it was a hand. Now he lost a voice. Both incidents, it had something to do with Emilia. The things he's done for her somehow ended up coming with a price, and yesterday's no different.

"I'm sorry, Emurdol, but I don't want you blaming Emilia for any of these losses." Puck was genuinely sympathetic as he healed the back of his bleeding head, but he had a resolute undertone in his words. "She already felt a lot of guilt when you were sliced open in that loot house, now she's feeling a lot worse after hearing from Betty that you lost your vocal chords dealing with this incident, which saved her name. I don't want you rubbing any salt in her wounds."

_[I DON'T BLAME HER FOR _ANYTHING_, PUCK!] _He could have screamed that, loud enough that the entire village could have heard him from here and everyone would know his point, but _nothing _came out of his mouth. Just a choked breath that barely even conveyed his thoughts verbally, and the despair struck even harder on his heart. His tears ran endlessly on the sheets, and his sobs were _very _audible despite being muffled. Mother rubbed his back, caressed his head, held the hand that crumpled the sheets—every form of comfort she had done to him all these years she did again, and he barely felt her efforts through the pain. _[IT WAS GOING SO WELL! IT WAS _EFFECTIVELY _HANDLED! I EVEN SAVED _EVERY_ CHILD...but that maid…that maid….! She made me come back…..why did she follow…..!? Why can't she trust me…..!?]_

Mother forced him to sit up and a pillow is suddenly pushed against his face, not to smother him but to give him the suitable substitute of a soft shoulder that he could cry on, which he accepted without question, pressing it even further to himself while steel arms wrapped themselves around his head, giving the illusion that she was still alive, breathing and full of warmth that she could secure him in from his demons. She was no being of flesh and blood, however, capable of such warm consolations. Even if she was full of love for him, her frame is designed solely for conflict of the harshest sort. It cannot exert the comforts that a Mother only could offer to the fullest extent.

Puck grimaced at how the Dead would even do as much as they can for their loved ones despite their incomplete forms. He floated near Emurdol's head, patting his scalp with his tiny paws. For someone who had sacrificed so much for his daughter, he deserved more than this but it was all he could offer.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"The people were very grateful for what you did, Emurdol. They're still arguing among themselves right now for failing to notice a broken barrier when it's their job to watch over it but just you wait, they'll come over with a basket full of fruits as thanks."

He gave no response.

"When you get it, let's share 'em with Lia. You know that my daughter a needs little more nutrients in her system. She's working a little too hard in her studies, should take a break once in a while. If you get some vegetables, let's make sure she eats her pepples. She's too picky. We'll force-feed her if we have to. Can't do it when I'm this small and cute but I think you'll do it right."

He still remained silent, facing away from the spirit and facing the wall adjacent to the side of the bed.

"I also heard from them that you _ate _the kids' curses yourself. I don't know how you did that but that's _brave _of ya! Who would eat a curse, anyway? It's not like you have the Divine Blessing for that, do ya?"

He stopped crying, his sniffles has stopped and his shoulders no longer hitched an hour or so ago, but he's been unresponsive since then. He was as still as a corpse, he even looked like one with his deathly pallor and cold skin. The fires of life that still flickered in his soul was all that Puck needed to know that he is still there.

And it is slowly being eaten away.

"Those curses you ate…." Puck paused, not liking the implications that came with what he felt inside Emurdol's body. "….they're still in you, aren't they?"

He heard the slightest sound of bone rustling against the sheets. He was clenching his right hand. There was the sensation of bitterness and pain that the spirit felt ripple across the man's mind before it suddenly disappeared. An unnatural phenomena.

Puck pursed his lips, "….do you think you can get rid of them?"

There was only silence. He expected the man to be silent, but an impersonal reply came, anyway, _[….yes.]_

The spirit's eyes went wide for the sudden response when he had been trying to get one out of him for a whole hour, attempting to get his mind away from his loss. Even with this, Puck's mood wasn't rising, "Why won't you?"

And then Resignation began filling in the hollow of Emurdol's mind that the spirit has been feeling since then, an emotionless and empty void that nearly resembled the thoughts of those were not alive.

Even if he wasn't given a response, Puck already figured out what this sudden surge of emotion meant. "You want to die, don't you?"

The sensation of finality was still there. It didn't disappear like the other emotions before, it remained in place like a nail buried into wood. Many other emotions were there; despair, regret, hatred, anger, but they were all overshadowed. The submission of the inevitable was stronger than anything.

"You're giving up?" Puck asked, frowning. "After what you said in that morning yesterday, you're just going to go back on your word like that?"

**"I am not going back on my word, Fay."**

He was stiff at the sudden arrival of that monstrous voice. A disgusting but visceral sound, and it sent a chill down his spine that even Puck couldn't resist. The emotion of finality lingered on, unfeeling to everything else but the prospect of death, passively awaiting it without question.

It reflected on what he had said about the desire for death his kin were known for.

**"I have had enough of it all. There's nothing but pain."**

He intends to uphold his word, but does not wish to live? It could have been a paradox, especially with the limited time he has left, but considering the kind of magician Emurdol was, including the fact that he was capable of many reality-breaking wonders, a conclusion couldn't escape Puck's mind, "Do you intend to become like your Mother?"

He could only wonder how he's going to do that, and how would Emilia react.

**"Much more." **He answered, **"An entity of emotion, with enough awareness to remember his promise. An apparition of duty, with the vestiges of my will and self in his person."**

"Like a Hollow, I take it? Or rather, it sounds like you're turning yourself into a contracted spirit." He inferred.

**"Like a Wraith." **He corrected firmly, **"If my body does not last, then Mother shall too. Her Soul is coming with me, along with everybody else."**

Puck eyed the wand holstered to Mother's spinal belt. It has been flashing green in and out since his subtle declaration to die. Strong emotions emanated from it like smoke. So much anger. So much hatred. So much despair.

He turned back to Emurdol. "Do you realize how much your decision will affect Lia? Even if you will come back, how much guilt and sadness do you think will be put on her?"

His emotions weren't swayed. The Resignation was still there. He didn't care about Emilia. He didn't care about himself. He didn't care about anything anymore. His apathy reached insurmountable limits, **"Everything you say…all for her, isn't it?"**

"Let me make this straight for you, Emurdol. I don't care about you. I don't care about anyone else. I don't even care about myself." The words passed by easily on his feline lips, "All I ever care about is her and her alone. If keeping you alive makes her smile, then I will keep you alive."

**"Just what can you do to stop me? What can you possibly do to stop me from ending my own life before you could do anything?"**

His tone implied that he wasn't expecting any sort of answer, and Puck knows why.

Because he already won.

How do you stop a man from committing suicide if his emotions have already vanished, making him incapable of being swayed by anything? Threatening people had been a tactic Puck used extensively, but such a thing won't work on Emurdol. He is a man seeking death, not fearing it. Nothing could be used as leverage against him either. If the spirit even tried anything, the man would immediately end his own life in a snap. He only assumed that but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Just how badly pushed to despair was he?

"If you die…." This was the last and only resort Puck had. He had no other options, "…your friend, Lia, will cry, just like what she said last morning."

Resignation.

….

…...

…...

Resignation.

**"Today is the fifth day. The day that I will depart. As soon as Emilia wakes up, I will give her my farewells and pass on in the wilderness along with Mother. Her tears won't come that way."**

Give her a reason to think that he merely departed to someplace else instead of having died and Emilia's state of mind won't be burdened by the guilt and depression Puck had told of.

It frustrated Puck that he had a point. Even if it was false hope, even if it was based on a _lie_, it was _better _that way. His only priority is Emilia and Emilia alone. If he cannot stop Emurdol, then he will do his very best to hide the truth from her the best he could.

"You win, Emurdol."

After hearing him concede defeat, the man shifted slightly before he returned to emulating an unmoving corpse. Puck was never aware of the bloody tears that had been running down Emurdol's eyes since the discussion of his death.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

It was 20 minutes later or so when he heard the door open. The mana signature gave away who it was, and he was quite surprised for that person to come by. As far as he knew, he barely conversed with her since the first day.

"Hey, Betty."

"Bubby….is he awake, I wonder?"

"He is. What are you here for?"

He listened to little footsteps approach the bedside before continuing, "To tell him his predicament, if he's not aware of it himself, I suppose."

He huffed in amusement. Too late.

"He's aware. He's just not bothered about it."

"What?" Now _there's_ the bewilderment mixed with shock that he expected once revealing his desire for death. "Is he not afraid of death, I wonder?"

A croaky sigh escaped out of him as a failed verbalization of "Ha!". In the same moment, an illusion enshrouded both Puck and Beatrice, taking them to a minor dimension where the Souls of the Dead thrived and congregated. And in that little world, an eldritch voice spoke a reply in behalf of a voiceless Priest.

**"Only idiots fear death. I _don't._"**

Beatrice was surprised for the sudden noises in her head but she was levelheaded enough to notice what's he's doing and reply accordingly, "After all the effort this silly girl did to heal you, you're just going to waste all that, I wonder?"

**"What I can only give her is the appreciation for the effort she's done to a friend. But it changes nothing, Little _Spirit._"** He blatantly exposed what she truly is, the identity learnt from his talk with the Dead, a large amount of emphasis put in the term as he shifted around until he faced her with a derisive glare and a sharp sneer. **"I want to die, and I gladly _will._****If you dare try to dispel these curses, I _will_****retaliate."**

Confusion and disbelief clouded the little girl's adorable features, creases forming in-between her eyes and wrinkling her wide forehead. "Even if I was going to, it's impossible at this point."

He raised an eyebrow, confused as to what she meant. **"Impossible?"**

"It would be simple to dispel a single curse that wasn't activated. But your body contained more than one thanks to the witchbeats that bit you in the forest and lived, making it far too complex for me to remove. It's as similar as a bundle of strings, too jumbled for me to unknot. Not only that, one among them is already activated, I suppose."

He would have hummed in interest, but lacking a working voice box, he could only express that in a nod. Eyes shining condescendingly as he stared deeply into her butterfly irises, he asked her, "**You cannot** **dispel the curses?"**

Without emotion, she answered him, "I told you, it's impossible."

His lips maintained the firm line since the start of the conversation but the smug look in his eyes could not be unnoticed. Mother sat him up once again before he began a demonstration. **"Count with me, Little Spirit."** With a skeleton hand, 3 fingers held up, he placed them at the center of his chest and a black mist from his body was pulled out like a parasite, morphing into a tiny ball in his fingertips.

**"One."**

Placing the black ball atop his left hand's index finger, his skeleton hand plucked out another unactivated curse from his right kidney and morphed it into a ball. He placed it to the middle finger of the left hand.

"**Two.**"

Reaching for his left shoulder, he nicked out two balls from there, held in the gaps of his index, middle and ring finger, all while his face expressed a superior look and the eldritch voice continued counting in a smug tone.

**"Three. Four."**

Reaching for his left wrist, he plucked the fifth and placed it on his thumb, leaving all fingers with a black ball atop the tips.

**"Five. And lastly…"**

The last curse, which had been activated, the one he had taken from the Damn Maid, he used all 5 fingers to extract it out of his belly. It was a dense cloud of pure black, its influence all over his body gathering to his grasp by force. After a few seconds, he morphed the bulging cloud in his bony hand into a ball that could fit an entire palm.

His job done, he shot her with the most delightful shit-eating grin he ever made since this morning. **"With just a clench of my left hand and I transfer this activated curse to a living tree as a patsy, I will be cleansed of _all_ curses and be guaranteed to live. I'm quite surprised that a being of _your_****caliber could not do the same."**

He reveled in the gobsmacked face Beatrice wore, her large eyes wide at his feat that she was incapable of doing. She had a rather abundant pool of mana, greater than even _him_, and a really defined circulation, great enough to match senior magi that could last longer against him in a fight, but she could _not _achieve something like _this_? His world's archmages could do it, even newly-ordained Priests of the Serpent fresh out of the Underground. He was tempted to laugh at the fact that _he_ was the superior one here.

**"But it still changes _nothing_."**

Wordlessly, he popped all the black orbs in his left hand into his mouth and his right hand let go of its grip on the activated curse, congregating back to his body like a pulled rubber band, continuing to where it left off and devouring his residual mana.

Nausea and queasiness overtook him as soon as the revolting flavor attacked his tongue and upset his stomach. He quickly clamped his mouth with his left hand while his right crumpled his stomach, fighting the urge to heave out his stomach acids once again. His eyes shut tightly and tearing red, his brow creased in pain, he slowly recovered to a stable state, removing his hand from his mouth while he stared down Beatrice with a derisive glare once again, his smirk emanating coldness.

**"I intend to leave this Realm, and that's _final_. If you got nothing else to say, then we're done here, Little Spirit."**

There was disgust in the little spirit's eyes, and Puck looked at all the proceedings with a hardened gaze. After a moment, Beatrice looked down and said in a soft mumble, "If that is your wish, then that blue-haired maid's efforts are going to be wasted, I suppose."

….

…..…..

…..…..…..

'Going to'?

There was something in that sentence that did not sit right with him. **"What did you say?"**

Beatrice met his hardened stare with her own composed gaze, "If the witchbeasts who inflicted these curses were to die, the curse itself, even if activated, _will_ be dispelled. If the Maid, who is so overwhelmed by guilt and the desire to repent for her actions, _were _to know that….what do you think would she do?"

He stared.

Staring with a wide gaze.

Then ever so slowly, his green eyes slowly lit up, from a small spark into a full glow of an emerald bonfire. The mana in the air slowly became tainted by his presence, making both Beatrice and Puck feel revolted by its occurrence, as if splattered with mud. His body tensed, progressing to tremble, shaking under the fury brewing inside his heart.

His resignation was forced aside, and fiery emotions overtook him once again, the gates opened to set them loose on his person. One emotion overpowered all, and it was _hatred_.

Turning his eyes to the person, the only one who would _never _keep her eyes away from his potential murderers, he addressed Mother with a simple conclusion.

"You didn't stop her." His voiceless inquiry wasn't a question, and it wasn't out of concern for the damn maid either, it was out of the notion to make sure she lives long enough for him to punish her. And Mother of all people _let her go_, denying him that right.

He felt a 'no'.

Of course it was a 'no'. She knew that the maid could never hope to clear out the entire forest on her own. She would only die in the process, he saw what it would only lead to the recent night. That must've been the reason why Mother let her live: so she could face a death deserving of her actions that led to his current state.

Even though it might make sense of Mother to do such a thing, but at the same time it was almost…._uncharacteristic _of her. She _never _lets the chance to take the lives of his enemies go. Even if his would-be murderers were to repent for their actions and he were to acknowledge them, she will _not _care. She would still annihilate them, no matter how genuinely regretful they are unless he firmly grounds the order that she must _not _kill them.

She has no sense of honor, merely an entity driven purely by emotions and desires, befitting a soul that has no body nor mind to accommodate rationality and self-control. All her desires revolve entirely around keeping him happy and safe.

She was no different to Puck, who prioritized Emilia's wellbeing above even his own.

Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to compose himself with a shuddering deep breath.

At the exhale, he was not calm at all. His Emotion Suppression failed. Even if his exterior expressed a quiet displeasure, a conflagration was erupting inside him that threatened to break out of his body and burn everything around him. By sheer force of will did he control himself from lashing out with his worst spells and eradicating the village.

Without the need of a prompt, Mother took him under the arms and secured him into her chest, his stumps placed neatly in the slots of her legs. The aches still present but the pain gradually bearable, he stretched his body to elicit a few cracks before he donned his equipment resting on the small table, throwing the chest plate to the Void.

"What do you plan to do, I wonder?" Beatrice asked.

Locking his right gauntlet into his skeletal hand, the soil inside arranged neatly to create the illusion of having a complete hand made out of flesh inside, the eldritch voice answered with a cold fury lacing its tone, **"I am heading back into the forest, track down that Damn Maid, drag her by the hair back to this place….and _kill her myself_**_._**"**

Finished with both gauntlets and drinking a whole healing elixir from the Void to take away the last of his body pains, Mother also finished donning the straps of the holsters containing the krises to his back. Brushing his hand across the wand hanging from his spinal belt, he opened the Void again and Mother's front right arms swiped the sickles out of thin-air before his left hand conjured the bone knife in his grasp.

"Even if you were to accomplish that, the elder sister would not simply let that happen. What do you intend to do once she confronts you?"

He regarded her with a bored gaze, as if she had asked him a very stupid question. What he's going to do once the Fair Maid confronts him? It's simple, **"Make her watch."**

And then he walked out of the cottage, nearly slamming the door behind him but refrained from doing so lest he woke the dear girl up. If she had and happened to know about what he's doing, she'll follow after him without a doubt. That's the kind of character she is.

In the off chance that she might wake up later and find out what he's doing….

Mother created an elongated spinal column with a small skull from the soil and it leapt to the top of the doorframe like a nimble snake, disguised as a morbid ornament. Its purpose would be to ensnare the dear girl once she tries to run after him. Since it is by Mother's design, she would have no hope in breaking it. With her mana drained, she cannot cast ice magic to break away either. He's confident that Puck won't release her as well, even if she orders him to. Keeping her safe is his priority, and where he's going is _not_ safe.

He's not referring to the witchbeasts inhabiting it, he's referring to _himself._

Because he _will_ kill her completely by accident.

Priests of the Serpent work alone, and with good reason. Their spells are well-known to cause collateral damage, indiscriminate in regards to targets, affecting both friend and foe, physically and mentally, and they will _not _care if one was to die. Having a Necromagus as an ally had its risks, _everyone _should know that, and they will _not_ take responsibility for the lives of the ones stupid enough to take them.

Even if he had his moments of collaborating with other fighters more than once before, controlling himself for the sake of a necessary camaraderie that will only last temporarily, he's _not _in the mood to hold back for anybody's sake. He's going to rid that forest of everything that moves, from animals to witchbeasts, and until he finds that Damn Maid, he'll leave a long trail of death and decay.

And by the time he finds her….

The ground quaked as 6 spots on the soil in front of him churned, sounds of grinding soil filling the morning air. After several seconds, with the civilians in the village center running over to see the commotion, including the Fair Maid, the golems pulled themselves out with great effort that left the onlookers in a mix of awe and fear for the arrival of hulking earthen monstrosities.

The one on the furthest right lead the charge, pounding its rocky fists to the ground mightily that made the villagers clear out of the way as it lumbered back to the forest on all fours. Leaving behind the large potholes where they came from, he followed after them by slipping into the gaps of the broken line they formed.

"Ser. What is this?" The Fair Maid was quick to question what he was doing, pacing after him while staying a safe distance from the flailing constructs. "What are you doing? What is going on?"

It took merely eye-contact for her to be shoved in the same realm and for the eldritch voice to speak for him, **"A _Purge_."** He left her with just that before his creations morphed into balls, leaving ruts on the dusty path as they rolled forward and Mother's speed increasing as she sprinted to the front of the charge.

What's left of them is a dust cloud that trailed on to the witchbeast forest.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Once again, he was glad for his subconscious habit of leaving a tracking curse on every single person he touches. The fact that a Curse of Finding is actually easy to evade anybody's awareness also helps, a metaphorical stain on a person's mana core they either notice or are oblivious to. No matter how big the stain would be, whether a tiny speck or a large blemish, it _never _fails its job in leaving a trail for him to follow. It explains why a being like Puck never noticed it when he touched the fay. It was a very _insignificant _curse.

And that insignificant curse helped make things easy.

But as he knew, Life never makes things easy.

Right now, there was a certain _somebody _following after the rut his 6 curled-up golems left behind them as they trailed after their sprinting master. The Spirits have been warning him of the same presence and he ignored it for a while. Only at a point of distance did he realize that the person following after him isn't having the mind to give up despite running for so long.

Holding his hand up, the constructs slammed their fists to the ground upon uncurling themselves and slid to a stop, toppling a few trees who were in the way. Behind them, there was a long line of broken trees and mangled plant life, trampled by mobile boulders. It might as well be an impromptu road.

The Nature Spirits won't be happy with him for this, not that he cares.

Exhaling a sigh, he turned around and saw the petite form catch up to him from the artificial path, sliding to a stop and slightly heaving in breath past the cloud of dust.

**"Why?"** It didn't surprise him that it was the Fair Maid. He could only wonder what she's going to do now that they aren't far from each other, a potential distance for physical conflict to erupt between them. **"What's the point of you being here?"**

After gaining a decent amount of oxygen, she replied, "What else? After hearing from Lady Beatrice what Rem is going to do as well what _you're _going to do, there's no possibility that Ram will simply let it be."

**"Now that you're in front of me…."** Taking a deep inhale, both in oxygen and tainted mana around him, he narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on his bone knife. Mother tightened her grip on her 4 weapons, the legs primed for a dash. His 6 golems rose to stand on their little legs, their large frames and obvious strength further emphasized by their squared stances. All entities were ready for a confrontation. **"…what will you do?"**

Meeting his glare, the Fair Maid stood her ground despite being outnumbered. He didn't see the slightest hesitation in her eyes. She was resolute, willing to face impossible odds to achieve her objective.

Internally, he was impressed. "Unfortunately, I will not give you the satisfaction. Ram's reason to be here is to retrieve her little sister, and once she does, she will shield her from your bones and your blades and your constructs. Therefore, Ram's business is not with you yet, so step aside." And she boldly waved off the golem near her with a flippant hand, skirting around the others in her way, sparing not even a glance to him nor Mother's blades as she walked past him and headed off into a random direction.

His gaze planted on her all the way, he shared a glance to a nearby golem for such audacity towards a Priest of the Serpent before following after her in a matching pace with the golems trudging after him. Mother kept her guard up, holding the weapons at the ready in case of treachery.

His civil attitude at the moment was enforced because of Emotion Suppression. His anger was barred from entering his consciousness, including his despair. The desire for death was still within him, but he didn't yearn for it. He's merely patient. Such fiery emotions would have clouded his judgment, and he can't have that when this task _demanded_ his full composure.

**"I wonder how you will find her."**

"Did _you_ have a way to find her?" She looked at him over his shoulder, a haughty look in her eyes.

He gave her a sardonic smile, coldly staring her down due to the height advantage. **"_Naturally._****And unlike you, I'm not alone."**

Instead of retorting like always, she instead said nothing and faced forward once again. "I have the Divine Blessing of Clairvoyance. It allows me to see through the eyes of insects and animals under my wavelength."

He heard about Divine Blessings from the Spirits. Apparently, it's an innate supernatural ability that could only be had by 1 person from a crowd of 100. It could be anything from knowing the quality of materials by a glance to the power to destroy simply by touch. This world's structure of extraordinary things sure has the most peculiar design.

To hear that the Fair Maid happened to be one of the unique among the 100, it was quite a revelation for him. Her Divine Blessing's quite the interesting quirk, he'd wonder how that would look like personally.

**"Where are your weapons?"**

"There wasn't time to take Ram's wand from the mansion. But do not worry, a little bit of wind magic will do the job." With flourish by swinging both hands to the side, a small gust explodes out of her form, kicking up dust and blowing his hair back.

He's surprised that Mother wasn't agitated from the harmless display of power. She's particularly wary against those who would be his enemy later and she isn't the most inclined to let others have the first move most times.

He leaned close to Ram's left ear despite his broken throat, **"Keep your distance when you sprout that horn of yours." **Advising that and acknowledging that she won't be a burden, he quickened his pace and went ahead, expecting her to follow after him. It's an easy assumption, his body language clearly indicated that he could find the little sister faster than her.

"If you expect me to fight exactly like Rem in her demon form, I cannot."

He slid to a stop, turning an inquisitive eye towards her.

"Unlike Rem, Ram has no horn."

Without thinking, he summoned a snake fang and shot it off to the left. The sound of bone piercing flesh and a hiding witchbeast is dead from a penetrated brain through the eye. He gathered its bones, exploding out of its body, morphing into a spear in midair and impaling another in the heart as a second one charged him. When a third arrived ahead, he dashed towards its sprinting form and choke-slammed the hellhound to the ground, draining mana from its struggling form before snapping the neck.

With his right hand raised in the air and his wand on his belt glowing green, the 2 unused corpses exploded to bring a pair of prowlers to unlife, ivory frames stained blood and organs hanging from them.

"This is more bearable to look at than a fallen ulgarm brought back to life." Came the Fair Maid's comment as she gave his creations a rather passing glance before nonchalantly walking past one.

This Maid's surely taking his magic well. He may have had a skeleton in his borrowed quarters, with the former having seen it more than a few times but she had explicitly seen the process straight out of a dead body instead of a pile of dust and isn't repulsed in the least.

Interesting. It may be because of the objective at hand overpowering trivial thoughts but it's still interesting.

If he's going to make a conclusion, this world's lack of awareness of the Order of the Serpent perhaps leaves them open-minded to the _milder _arts of necromantic magic. As far as he knew when he hears the thoughts of comrades who accept his existence as a fellow human and a friend, they _never _liked him 'desecrating of the dead'; raising the fresh bodies of nearby corpses or fallen allies to have their unique combat abilities utilized to the last.

Pfft. As if the Souls actually _cared _about their shells being used in such a way. They lose their flesh, they let go of their worldly attachments along with it. They couldn't give a damn about what a Priest of the Serpent does to it.

Such actions earned him a lot of spite but they _never _forget that if he hadn't done so, they would have been long dead and their bones would be added to his arsenal. His dark magic might be accepted in this world as long as he draws a line in regards to raising the bodies of comrades.

Not that the thought matters now. His final destination is _home_. He has no plans in suffering any further once he's done.

Reaching her side, he decided to inquire further, **"Explain." **He told, tapping index and middle finger to his forehead.

Ram looked at his gesture and understood quickly, "It is as it sounds. It refers to foolish Demons that lost their horns." He would have hummed in interest at the information. So their horns iconize the Demon race, huh. "It was lost in a minor skirmish, and ever since, Rem had to be relied on for everything Ram cannot do."

The Spirits have ridiculed the elder sister to be inferior in regards to housework and diligence compared to her little sister as a maidservant. So her being hornless was the reason why?

In a certain point of view, this could have caused friction between the two out of some form of jealousy for the other having something she hasn't. But given how endearingly close the sisters were, that would likely be impossible.

**"Have you accepted yourself?"** He wants to know. If having a horn is particularly important for her kind, losing it might be such a heavy thing to accept. It might be a stain on her pride as a Demon. Now that she lost the unique quirk of her race, does she accept herself as the way she is now?

She didn't face him as she answered, but there was a resolute tone in her voice. "Yes. It may not be so before but that was a long time ago. In the place of a horn, Ram has earned a life as well as many other things. It's a welcome exchange. However, Rem would not think the same way."

His brow nearly furrowed. He heard the slightest undertone of somberness near the end. Time to ask a heavier question, a personal one. **"Do you love your sister, even if she is now better than you in every way?"**

Emotion Suppression is the only reason why he's able to speak of that damn woman without snapping.

She stopped walking and she stared at him straight in the eye, eyes clear and voice full of nonchalant delivery. Not a single trace of hesitation in her words. "I do, and I always will. And now, Ram is worried about her. Even if her fighting ability surpasses mine, even if she's far more diligent than me, skillful than me, that isn't a reason to _not_ be worried. Because Ram is her Dear Elder Sister. That will _never _change."

She's aware of her inferiority very well, she acknowledges that she relies on her little sister for most of her work, she's likely aware that she could get severely injured in the task of finding her because she could make a mistake in her ability to fight, but her priorities as the only reliable figure of authority in that girl's life is still clear in her mind. She's _firm _towards it. If her family is in danger, she'll act, no matter the downsides present.

There was no way he can maintain that stern look on his face upon hearing it.

So he placed a metal hand on her head, stroking his thumb across the pink locks.

She looked at him questioningly, frowning. "What are you doing?"

The eldritch voice now held a softer tone than before, almost affectionate. **"I had a reason to like you, now I have a reason to _respect_****you."**

Among the very few things that he liked about Above-Worlders, it is the fact that some held their family over others or even themselves, considering them to be irreplaceable and invaluable beyond any measure of material wealth. Those of the Underground City _revere _familial relations, always singing their praises whenever a son, daughter or sibling is brought to the world, and to see others who aren't like them having the same form of importance held on their flesh and blood is enough to earn the respect of any Priest of the Serpent.

Taking his hand back, he will now start focusing on the task at hand, earning a fine resolve to do what he's supposed to do here. **"Activate Clairvoyance. If you do not see her, follow me."**

"Right. For the meantime, keep Ram guarded. She is but a vulnerable maiden in a forest full of witchbeasts while alone with a man."

Ordering his constructs to surround the Maid with him outside the circle, he kept his senses sharpened for any incoming danger. Looking behind him, he found her standing in place with her eyes closed, concentration clouding her entire mien. He honestly wondered how it is like to see through the eyes of beasts and insects but the present danger of the environment overshadowed his curiosity.

The entire 2 minutes that passed was uneventful, not a single witchbeast jumping out of the foliage and charging at him. The sounds of the forest critters are all that's present besides them and his creations.

"I don't see her."

With a stomp of his foot, the golems promptly curled into balls and the prowlers dropped on all fours like a beast. Retracing the lines of the Curse of Finding planted on his quarry, he took the lead as he began sprinting towards the spectral trail.

**"Follow."**

The ground shook as his hulking constructs began to roll forward and gained momentum, his skeletons trailing after him with an unnatural grace unbefitting for a frame of bones. Out of consideration, he had Mother construct a quadruped monstrosity of ivory that could have passed for a table but the uneven top implied that it was meant to be rode on. And the Fair Maid took the hint immediately, hopping on to the morbid transport and it began sprinting to match his swift pace with baffling ease.

"How will you know where she is?" She asked, knelt on one knee atop her ride while a single hand held on to keep steady.

**"The Souls of the Dead will guide us." **He jumped over a fallen tree, the quadruped construct and the prowlers following suit while the golems simply ran it over, leaving it decimated or flattened against the soil. **"And the tracking curse I planted on her will tell me where she went. In a matter of time, we'll reach her."**

"Convenient. Ram will keep close watch."

With a point of his dagger forward, the prowlers pounced an incredible distance and height into the air and landed some distance ahead. His ears caught the sound of witchbeasts being felled under fang and claw. Mother's sickles and krises at the ready, he dashed several yards ahead and kneed an unsuspecting mutt in the jaw, killing it from the skull-capped knee. Without a loss of a beat, he continued to run, with the other witchbeasts now chasing after him.

"_Fula_!"

A feminine canto is yelled behind him and the sound of enchanted wind slicing through a leather body passes through his ear before said body is crushed under the weight of a round stone of perpetual motion. A few more blades of wind felled the chasing dogs behind him, cleanly bisected before getting crushed.

A witchbeast fell to the sickle, and its body was thrown far into the distance thanks to Mother's strong arms, followed by a thunderous pop of a corpse exploding, likely killing any living being nearby. To his left, a bone wall was created, the pack of dogs slamming into it in a loud smash. Above his head as he ran, a large bone drill is conjured before it flew forward at dangerous speeds, eradicating any tree and witchbeast in its way before it exploded into a cloud of shrapnel, a thunderous sound. The golems behind him took the lead, trampling everything in their wake. Witchbeast or plant life, they were rendered flat in the line of juggernauts in front of him, leaving a broad impromptu road behind them. The sounds of eradication was nearly deafening amidst the growls and howls of the hellhounds.

Seeing this as a moment of respite, he quickly drained whatever mana was in the air. The Spirits of Nature are starting to spite him, depriving him of the energies needed to fight for his indiscretion to their domain. He forced himself through their stubbornness anyway, consuming as much mana in the air as he can before the Spirits could take it all away from him.

When he had the right amount of energy in his core, he continued to desecrate the forest, justifying every action done as an attempt to cull the fiends living in this forest.

Bones. Corpses. Poison. Golems.

He was creating destruction using his loudest spells.

"What are you doing!? If you keep this up, every witchbeast will come running straight towards us! Ghk! The scent of beasts are getting stronger. What are you trying to do!?"

**"Little Sister hunts the witchbeasts. The witchbeasts hunts _us_, Little Sister will follow. Make her come to us." **He had to keep his words short. Conversations can't be had when his concentration is bent on continuous eradication of everything in his way.

His aim was to make noise. Chaos. He needs to cause a disturbance so powerful that every inhabitant in the forest would not ignore it. And when every inhabitant notices his presence through the destruction he's creating, every witchbeast will come, and his quarry will inevitably present herself.

The dogs' simplistic tactics of merely pouncing or biting made slaughtering them _easy_. And with the Fair Maid covering his rear with her wind blades, felling every witchbeast that trailed after them while riding the quadruped frame to keep up with his speed, it would take no time before the Damn Maid reveals herself.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

_Fucking burden!_

If he had his voice, he would be screaming that in a mantra all day long, even if he was surrounded by witchbeasts and slaughtering them whenever they were in reach of Mother's blades or his bone knife. In fact, he would roar that phrase so loudly to the point that even the village would hear it despite his distance from the place.

The reason for such thoughts to cross his mind…

"To be held like this, Ram will tell Lord Roswaal on you."

He smacked his armored right hand straight to the head of the petite body he clutched to his chest. A nonverbal expression of the word 'Shut up' in the harshest voice possible, conveying his supreme displeasure for the unwanted turn of events and absolutely _not _in the mood for jokes.

"Your displeasure isn't going to make things better. Ram's stamina did not last as long as she expected."

Another smack. If she could just shut up right now, that would be more than helpful because he was very close to simply dropping her and leaving her to the dogs the more he listened to her damn excuses. His Emotion Suppression had lost most of its integrity and now traces of his anger returning made him more than inclined to just abandon her. She walked in without her weapons, she compensated with magic. And did she have a countermeasure when she runs out of mana? _No, she did not_! Now look at her, drained to the point that she couldn't even move her bloody limbs! She's actually doomed to die the sooner she walked in! She didn't prepare for the excursion, she didn't even _think _it through! She's actually as dumb as the fucking maid that ran off deeper into the breeding grounds!

Can he just _please _leave the sisters to their deaths for their collective stupidity!?

A witchbeast pounced at him from the side.

_UGH!_

With an elegant spin in the air and with proper control of momentum, he had his back facing the attacking witchbeast and Mother viciously shredded the beast to pieces with her 4 weapons before his feet landed back to the ground, returning to the sprint without the loss of a beat.

Looking behind him, the pack of hellhounds are still chasing him down as Mother kept running away from them. Judging by their numbers counting to 50 or countless more, his strategy to draw aggro was a success. What went outside his calculation was that he had to handle a _fucking HANDICAP_!

Now everything's falling to hell!

Facing forward, he beheld the one golem continuously rolling like a force of nature in front of him, decimating everything in its path to clear a stable road for him to take. The other 5 were behind him somewhere, doing their masterwork of steamrolling every witchbeast they could find. It doesn't do the job of drawing the Damn Maid any closer but it'll lessen the number of enemies he'll have to deal with.

The problem is he doesn't know what to do next. Not while this fucking HANDICAP is burdening his arms!

The next necessary steps were hindered because of this fucking waste of an existence! Once gathering a large number of witchbeasts, he was supposed to activate a spell that will annihilate an immense number of them in a single stroke, abundant amounts of mana effectively regained from their corpses than lost in the process and creating an army at the same time. But how can he do that while there's going to be collateral damage!?

By the Dragon, this is the _worst _day of his fucking life! Can he die now!?

The rolling golem in front of him abruptly vanished into the ground.

As he widened his eyes at the sudden disappearance, he was too late to find out that instead of the construct sinking into the soil, it had simply fallen off.

There was a sheer drop ahead of him.

The time it took for him to realize the danger and have Mother stop running was not enough. His feet skidded off the edge and his rear end grazed the rocky surface of the slanted cliff as gravity slid his and Mother's frame against it. His mouth couldn't express any sound, but he was screaming, growling and roaring at the sudden circumstances all the same. Fortunately for him, they would only express his stress instead of panic as he had been through something like this before.

Elbows bent fully backwards, the arms holding the sickles stabbed deep into the cliff, leaving long lacerations on the rock and her heels finding a foothold as Mother attempted to slow down his descent. He felt her frame strain against the effort, but it held on tenaciously until the curled blades snagged on protruding roots, abruptly stopping his momentum. Once again, he was glad for the durability of troll bones. Any other and Mother's spine would have snapped under his weight as well as the Maid's despite her lightweight frame, sending him straight down to the ground and likely breaking his neck.

Oh, just how _tempting _that would be.

Practically crushing the petite girl against his chest with his tense embrace, he controlled his breathing and regained his composure. Even if he wasn't the one running or exerting extreme effort with the sickles, the struggle of his situation equally matched the weight of pressure it could have on his mental state.

Looking down, he found pieces of solidified mud and stone scattered at the bottom. It must be his golem's remains. They practically have the same constitution as glass. They can suffer any punishment as long as it's not any stronger than themselves. His golems could not possibly survive falling from terminal heights.

Looking up, he found more than a reasonable number of witchbeasts looking down on him from the edge of the cliff he fell off of, unable to chase after him anymore lest they take chances with the risk of falling to their deaths.

Going up is not an option anymore, it seems. He gave them a malignant hiss and a wolfish sneer, practically ridiculing them for failing to get him.

In synchronized movements, Mother flipped his body around so he faced the cliff face, traversing Ram's body around till she was put in a piggyback carry at the same time, her back arms holding the krises hugging the maid to his back while he held on to her thighs with a vice grip.

"Be gentle with a lady." He heard an exhausted mumble from behind, "What kind of upbringing did you come from, anyway? Didn't your parents taught you to respect women?"

Irritation flooded his mind once again, hoping for the umpteenth time that she could just _shut up_. He's already risking his fucking neck—_AGAIN_ if he might add—just to make sure she _lives _instead of leaving her deadweight ass behind so she should have the courtesy of saying _only _important things instead of bullshit!

"Your bone armor's uncomfortable to rest against too…."

Failing to growl to express his annoyance, Mother pulled the sickles out of the rock and momentarily let go of the cliff to fall several meters down before stabbing them into the rock again, using his bodyweight to slide further downwards till he reached the ground.

As soon as he felt the ground from the vibrations of Mother's feet meeting the soil, he promptly released Ram's thighs before Mother literally threw her against the rising curve of the cliff to lean against. Despite her light body, it was actually relieving to no longer have a hold of her.

"You crude man…"

Now to deal with other matters.

Right in front of him, more witchbeasts as they jumped out of the tree line on his level. There just seems to be no end of these damn things. No matter where he goes in this forest, there's always one waiting for him. How long were these things reproducing before he arrived to cull their numbers?

He spat at them, baring his sharp teeth. He doesn't even want to think about how many there are. Numbers hardly mattered in a fight against a Priest of the Serpent. The only prospect present were the numerous souls he'll offer to the Dragon as a meal before it's over. This forest will serve as fine grain in the pantry.

He can deal with them. The battle's only in front of him. His back is protected by a large mountain, perfectly closed-off and a safe place to put down _handicaps _so they don't burden him_. _

_But first…_

He picked up Ram under the arms and _threw _her straight upwards to the air, only for skeletal arms to breach out of the cliff face and pull her close, keeping her secured there and outside the reach of any witchbeast.

She glowered over him, "You utterly _crude _man."

She should be thankful that he didn't knock her unconscious beforehand and he wouldn't have used a gentler method either.

Now in regards to the conflict; he still got mana, enough for a few spells. If he could just drain just a few pints of mana from the witchbeasts, he'll be back into prime fighting condition. Once he does, it'll be an easy return to the slaughter.

However, the 'Alpha' was there, shaped in the most unassuming form he's ever seen. A puppy, as tiny as two of his fists together, standing atop a rock formation. The same one he saw last night, sending that wave of earth down on him and the Damn Maid. It's a beast capable of casting spells, a factor to watch out for.

He needs to kill the damn thing before anything else.

To start, he shot an enlarged snake fang into the eye of a witchbeast. Its immediate death triggered the rest into a sprint, charging at him with bare teeth and claws, a cacophony of demonic howls filling the air as the slaughter signaled its beginning. His body tensed, torso leant forward in preparation with his bone knife ready and his right hand curling in and out. Mother was equally ready, sickles and krises to bear in front of him, her legs preparing for a quick dash.

One witchbeast was at the right distance. Readying to grab its throat out of the air as soon as it pounces, he—

**Thud!**

A body of a witchbeast fell in-between them both, he and the mutt flinching from its sudden arrival as they regarded the headless body, forgetting about their eminent battle.

**Thud!**

Another body fell from a few meters away, landing before 2 hellhounds as they yelped from its sudden impact.

**Thud! Thud!**

A howl from the left indicated a living witchbeast being smashed by a falling body of its kind, likely killing it or disabling it before a second dead body landed beside it.

**CRUSH!**

A hulking body of stone and mud landed on 4 unfortunate hellhounds, flattening them, creating a dust cloud and creating a flower of blood on the soil underneath it. The golem died, however, its beefy arms and large frame cracked and scattered from the impact. There was a noticeable crater on its chest as well, as if something round had smashed it.

He looked up to the edge of the cliff alongside the witchbeasts, noticing that _something _was decimating the hellhounds _and _the golems who he left behind up there to clean up the rest. Sprays of blood and rubble were falling off the edge, causing an unpleasant rain on the interrupted conflict.

There was the sensation of danger rolling off from there like a smoke cloud; something absolutely dangerous was responsible for these corpses, sending them down there as a form of wicked salutations.

And then he saw it. No. He saw _her_.

Like an arrow, with her ball and chain trailing behind her like a tail, she leapt off the cliff's edge, head pointed down while her horn glowed bright despite the sunny morning, and in a graceful flip she landed in a cloud of dust, her flail shattering the soil upon impact to the ground.

It was her, the maidservant uniform recognizable as the one Ram wore, but it was bloodier than yesterday, tattered than before, and she looks far more barbaric than elegant. Her weapon had remains of blood and gore, telling of the lives it took. Her fingernails…he had just noticed they had extended into wicked claws. Despite these details, the identity never escaped his mind.

_Maid…!_

He would have growled that name if he had his voice. As if hearing his mental call, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes lacked any sanity or reason. The horn is clouding her humanity, the demon within taking control.

He barely stopped his Emotion Suppression from breaking entirely and going out of control when he saw her face. Because of her—because of her, he can no longer speak! Because of her, he had to leave! Because of her, he lost the will to live! Because of her—

—_I HAD TO LEAVE MY FRIEND BEHIND!_

Without another thought, his body rocketed straight towards her, only to veer to the right when she dashed to dodge his presumed strike in the same direction, following after her pace. Just when she skidded to a stop and was about to lash out with her weapon, a skeleton hand with claws for fingers shot out of the ground and tore into her leg, leaving long and bleeding lacerations.

Seeing an opening as she grunted in pain, he sharply changed directions and shot towards her, slamming an armored fist straight to her chest, sending her rocketing backwards but did not land on her back, only sliding her feet across the ground.

Sensing multiple hostile entities behind him and coming closer, he whirled as soon as they were at touching distance, Mother's weapons bisecting the two witchbeasts behind him to pieces and pulling their bones out of their frames, shooting them out as spears to the other ones, quickly ending their lives. he quickly dashed forward before the iron ball of spikes came over his head and the ground met the full force of the blow, exploding in a cloud of rock and dust. As he passed over the corpses of the witchbeasts he killed, they exploded in a burst of viscera as bloody skeletal warriors rose out of them, wielding serrated swords, axes and maces.

Knowing their instructions, the constructs charged towards Rem. When the flail lashed out once more to take them all out in a single horizontal swoop, they jumped over the iron ball and chains as soon as it arrived and upon landing back to the ground, they unleashed a terrifying burst of speed and reached the maid in a single second, striking her one at a time. The first skeleton with an axe struck her abdomen, doubling her over. The second with the serrated sword slashed her left thigh, bringing her down to one knee. The third with the mace lashed out with its fist to her chin, throwing her head upwards to face the sky. The fourth and last with a serrated sword slapped a hard palm straight to her face, slamming the back of her head to the ground.

"NO!" A strained voice from the cliff face yelled out.

Emurdol clapped his hands once.

New instructions heeded, they dispersed and charged the witchbeasts that were about to take advantage of their single-minded attention on the maid and strike both parties down, barring any from getting closer, fighting to the last.

The maid's wounds were instantly healed, surprising no one as Emurdol knew it was the horn doing that. When she was about stand up to her feet, enumerable arms of ivory erupted around her and pinned her back to the ground, a gargantuan hand erupting below her feet and burying her in a pile of bones.

Emurdol quickly dashed towards her, slotting the bone dagger in his belt and reaching out with metal claws towards her, fuming with green necromantic energy. Running across the giant skeletal wrist, his grip nearing to her horn—

He instantly dashed to the right, escaping the explosion of ivory before any fragments could hit him. Despite the build of those arms, the maid still manages to overpower them with her own physical power. As she was suddenly up to her feet, more arms grew out of the ground, sharp claws at the fingertips tearing into whatever they flesh could brush against from her before a leg sporting many lacerations decimated all of them in a single sweep kick.

That action alone left her open to Emurdol's strike and she received a slashing swipe of his claws on her face, her head recoiling to the side as it acquired three gashes before a metallic fist clobbered the back of her head, sending her face to the ground. As a finality, she received a strong kick to the side that sent her rolling towards the foot of the cliff.

Eyeing the weapon she dropped on the ground and raising skeletons out of the dead bodies of witchbeasts behind him thanks to the efforts of his first batch of constructs, he dashed towards her crumpled form that shook to rise up to her feet once again, her jagged wounds and the lacerations on her face already gone. Hands fuming green once again, he aimed for her horn to grab it—

"Rem, look out!"

Alarm crossing his mind for Ram's sudden warning, he quickly jumped in an arc towards the face of the cliff and whirled before Mother's sickles buried themselves into the rock, keeping him away from any desperate attack. _Better safe than sorry._

With him out of the way, Rem quickly dashed towards her fallen weapon, picking it up and lashing it towards him. Quickly jumping in an arc once more, he suddenly realized that was a big mistake. He's left open in the air, incapable of moving to any direction, and the maid had already yanked her weapon backwards, the iron ball curving towards his form.

Thinking fast and disregarding the risks, a long spinal column erupted from the ground, snaked towards his airborne form, coiled around his ankle and yanked him straight down to the ground, the flail missing by a hair's breadth. The force of the pull was too strong, and he landed gracelessly, roughly slamming his knees and Mother's front right arms to the ground to stop his face from meeting it, the soil cracking under his weight added by the speed of his drop. Even if he avoided the worst of it, the recoil of the impact rolled across his body painfully.

Rem easily broke the constrictive coil of the skeletal tentacle around her petite form and shattered it to pieces. When she reared the flail back once again to strike, she suddenly whirled in place and kicked the witchbeast that slipped past the barrier of skeletons right in its flank, the force behind it powerful enough to render the hellhound into a cloud of blood and entrails. She suddenly cartwheeled to the side, turning into multiple backhand springs when her last position suddenly erupted in a pillar of fire. This time it wasn't from him, it was from the puppy.

Two more witchbeasts slipped past the barrier and sprinted towards Emurdol. Their momentum became their downfall when they suddenly impaled themselves into a row of bone spikes that erupted from the ground and angled in their direction. He held his hand out towards their bodies, writhing and still alive, and drained their mana before they bled to death.

He cut off the siphoning short when he felt a large pack coming from his side and created even more bone spikes towards them like a sprouting flower, impaling all but one in the group of 11 snarling dogs. He grabbed the survivor by the snout, ripped off the lower jaw and drained its mana core straight to the bottom before snapping its neck. Looking up to see that the impaled witchbeasts died instantly and their mana gone before he could steal it, he quickly composed himself and charged back into the slaughter, ignoring the maid and aiming for that Alpha.

The Maid and the witchbeasts are distracted with each other. Good. He will target the Alpha while they are occupied. Bloodlust and malice shining from his eyes, he dashed forward and speared through a pack of hellhounds in the way, leaving them as bloody pieces of meat in courtesy of Mother's blades.

The beasts turned to the other threat coated in their brethren's blood, only to be eviscerated by the flail's vicious strike for turning their eyes away from the first assailant. Making distance away from the length of the chain, he dashed past multitudes of them and ended with his foot crushing a witchbeasts skull as he used it as a brake. Bestial heads turned to his new location and charged him.

Grabbing the first witchbeast by its jaw and ripping it off in a vicious pull, the following dogs were shredded apart by Mother's well-placed strikes as he kept running, dragging the jawless beast with him without letting go. He sucked up his writhing victim's entire mana core down to the bottom the entire time before snapping its neck. Feeling a surge of energy come from below, he jumped away before his last standing location exploded in a burst of dirt and earth like a geyser.

That Alpha's sneaking its spells into the fight. But he can't see that little shit anymore. It must've known it was targeted and hid from sight.

A group of 4 mutts waiting for him in his landing spot, he grinned wolfishly and life came to be below their paws. The mud golem erupted beneath them, rising broad shoulders threw them off balance and a loud crunching sound erupted from a single dog crushed inside the earthen hand gripping its body in the air. Landing on the knuckles, he exhumed a cloud of toxin out of him before landing back to the ground.

Every assailant targeting him was immediately sent convulsing a few inches close to his feet as they lost their balance upon entering the noxious cloud and suffered from the poison running through their lungs. The rest stopped short of the killing radius, finally aware of the danger it posed after an additional pile of 23 bodies. While they were still convulsing and alive, he took his time in draining their mana to himself. Numbering the bodies to maybe 31 or 34, that's more than enough energy to take in.

Feeling another surge of mana beneath his feet, he dashed backwards before a pillar of fire exhumed out of the earth. Now outside the dangerous cloud of green, the witchbeasts closed in on him quickly. Sneering with the corners of his lips rising, he charged them head on. A snake fang to the eye and into the brain, a witchbeast is dead. A surge of mana into its unmoving body, it exploded in a cloud of blood, bones and shrapnel, killing 7 more. As he whipped past their corpses with his wand on his belt glowing, unused bones exploded out of their vessels and rose up as skeletons, wielding axes, maces and swords. They wasted no time in getting into the fight, taking more lives.

He spared a glance to the other battle. The endless numbers of witchbeasts divided instead of focusing on one target, the Maid was faring well on her own. Both iron ball and chain handing out violence without mercy to any within her reach, turning any living being she saw into an eviscerated mess in a gory circle around her, staining her shredded uniform even further with crimson liquid.

She's moving too erratically compared to before, now heavily-guarded on all directions, blocking off any openings he might exploit to land an incapacitating blow on her. He needs her attention planted solely on him, he needs her vision tunneled.

To acquire that, he needs more corpses. Enough to create skeletons equally matching the numbers hording down on him or even more. He needs a whole army, in fact. So he proceeded to enact a slaughter with him as the butcher and the attacking witchbeasts as meat. No need for methodical cuts of the cleaver, just a strong swing of the blade and he can quickly proceed to the next batch.

Swing of a sickle, 1 dead. Raise skeleton. Spin with weapons spread out, 4 dead. Raise skeletons. Fling snake fang through the eye, 1 dead. Explode corpse, 8 dead. Raise skeletons. Exhume toxins, drain mana. Raise skeletons. Summon bone spears, 6 dead. Raise skeletons. Grab a witchbeast, drain mana before twisting the neck. Raise skeleton. Dash through a pack with blades spinning, 13 dead. Gather bones to create more spears, 21 dead. Raise skeletons. Exhume toxins again, drain mana. Raise skeletons.

The process was simple: kill and then raise the dead, with momentary draining of mana. His army is growing, reaching to 60 strong. Countless frames of ivory, bloody from their rise to unlife and wielding gruesome instruments of death. Some stood back from the frontlines, their hands glowing in reds, blues, whites and greens, contributing to the battle by flinging bolts of elemental magic. They fell more bodies than he can on his own, and it brought more soldiers to the battlefield, instantly turning a growing number of 83 into 145, scattering to whatever part of the area they were in to kill witchbeasts and staying away from the demon maid's attention.

All this effort wasn't without consequences. His mana is practically unlimited with the number of enemies present, but his stamina's slowly wilting. His body can last but his mind's endurance could barely hold on to the strain of continuous casting of magic, he barely even recuperated properly in that cottage after sleeping off a horrible battle last night. His attention is starting to waver from the fight, twinges of drowsiness coming forth so he stopped on this army limit.

Jumping away from the frontlines of the battle and about to land on his skeletons, they raised their weapons up horizontally and provided good footing for him to run on, quickly bringing him back towards the Maid as he ran over the heads of his legion. As she felled the last witchbeast in her vicinity, he quickly dashed with his clawed-hands stretched outwards to her horn. She moved away from his reach and he quickly jumped to another location before the incoming flail smashed his head in.

His golem, who had been on standby since rising from the soil, moved to action and curled into a ball. The iron ball instantly shattered it to a thousand pieces of stone and dust, a death quicker than he anticipated and it didn't get the chance to follow its orders. Skeletal arms rose out of the earth beneath her to constrict her arms and legs once more, only to be shattered easily with a quick lash of her leg compared to before as it seemed she had learned to counteract them easily after the first one and the chain of her weapon nearly shredded his forehead if he hadn't ducked under it as he tried to dash for her again while she was supposed to be restricted.

The ground shook, trembling as if something massive was about to arrive. Turning towards where it came from, with the maid turning to look as well, the same wave of earth and dirt was coming down on his sizable army, utterly annihilating them into an earthen grave as they were swept away in a violent torrent that reshaped the terrain of the battlefield.

Not a single one survived.

Suppressing his shock, he quickly dashed away from the maid and back to the cliff side where the Fair Maid is still stuck to the face of the cliff, who watched the entire scuffle with wide unblinking eyes and was surprised at his sudden return to her. He couldn't hold down his bitterness and frustration as he watched the battle between him and the little sister immediately devolve back to a fight between her and the witchbeasts, who charged her en masse now that the second threat is no longer nearby.

He spat on the ground. Just where the hell is that Alpha!? That damn pipsqueak is the only thing that's making things difficult! And even if he's to retreat instead, how can he bring the Damn Maid along while she's out of control!?

"You're wasting your efforts if you plan to use your fists and your magic extensively. The horn. It's her horn."

He only spared a glance to Ram before he faced the ongoing violence, noticing that while the little sister is brutally snuffing out the lives of witchbeasts, she was receiving numerous scratches and lacerations on her form, little by little. The number of assailants weren't dropping at all despite his army's efforts before they were utterly destroyed. She won't last. Her regeneration isn't fast enough for that. She absolutely cannot when her many enemies are focused solely on her instead of two people.

"That horn is the one leading her astray. Just one strike to the horn will bring her back."

Oh?

Well, he's thankful for that. If he had known that sooner, this would have ended _long _ago. He could have punched it out while he was in punching-distance with her. He thought he should drain the entirety of her mana by grabbing it. Didn't the Spirits tell him of this weakness? It seems he was too absorbed in battle to remember it.

But with her crowded by witchbeasts and lashing out with her menacing weapon, her every movement extremely erratic and wild compared to before, it's very likely that he'll be struck down before he could land a strike the sooner he's within her range.

"Hurry. Rem is going to be overwhelmed if you don't do something."

He growled at the pressure coming down on—

The wand on his waist flashed in bright green light.

The boney constraints that held Ram against the cliffside suddenly crumbled to dust, dropping her to the ground roughly.

…..…..

….…..…..…..

…..…..…..…..…..…..

_[Sorry, brother, but let this matter be left to my hands for now.]_

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Ram, who could see the side of his face as she lifted her upper body up from the ground, took in the sudden change of his visage. His sneer slowly morphed into a playful smirk. The light in his eyes also altered, sparkling with a youthful energy that was completely unlike the hardened fire just seconds ago. She was thrown off by the sight. And when he turned that smile full of excitement towards her, she was suddenly looking at a different person. It was as if she was beholding a boy on his 14th turn stepping up to show off a secret talent no one ever saw.

"Ser?"

He shook his head, mouthing a word from his lips. _Nope_.

Turning back to the violence once again, his hands glowed a bright green as he raised them up high and abruptly pointed them forward. The cliff face exploded as 7 elongated spines broke out of 7 openings on the rock and snaked towards the slaughter with sharp four-fingered claws reaching for a living being. A matching number of witchbeasts, who were distracted by the occurrence, were caught and abducted, pulled to his space.

The maid took advantage of the hellhounds' distraction and decimated a sizable number of them in a single swing.

The struggling forms of the captured witchbeasts were instantly still as their necks were snapped one by one in quick succession by the hands of the Pale One, his physical body moving in an utterly new language that definitely did not belong to the man named Emurdol Viandegroc. It was flamboyant and exaggerated as opposed to the practical and experienced sway. Glowing green hands were held out over the bodies and the bodies of dogs morphed, shifting, melting, contorting, moving like liquid as they left most of their skeletal frames, hide and organs behind, sinew, tissue and blood gathering to a singularity in front of him.

Ram watched with wide pink eyes, taking in the disgusting occurrence without blinking or looking away. She watched the lumps of flesh slowly flesh merge together, a growing red blob on the ground contorting into shape, slowly becoming humanoid—a disproportionate design with an oversized right arm and a tiny left leg. There was no skin. A canine skull that served as a head was slowly clothed with sinews, granting it a mouth and a single eye that looked deeply _at her_. Slowly and slowly as it began to form numerous parts of both the human and _inhuman _anatomy, it began to let out a sound from the numerous openings found on its body before they closed and its horrid mouth found on the left bicep gave off a high-pitched resonance.

Croaking, groaning, grunting, wailing, and eventually it began _speaking_. Pure nonsense, numerous syllables mushed together without rhyme or reason. An abominable language spoken by an abominable tongue belonging to an equally abominable creature that existed as a violation of life itself.

And suddenly, coherence.

"**ENVYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!‼!‼!‼!**"

As the Golem screamed that guttural roar, the creator suddenly curled, upper body bending over in pain as he held his chest and coughed out blood on the soil. The skeletal frame he wore opened up at the chest, allowing him to lean properly outward while 4 metallic arms held him from falling off. After retching out gastric fluids as well as his lifeblood that seemed to have _melted _the soil, the demon maid and witchbeast turned face towards him as if discovering a new detestable existence and roared.

The abomination returned the courtesy, 7 mouths found on several parts of its body lined with razor sharp teeth opening wide and sending a horrifying roar that nearly overpowered the cacophony filling the air and shaking the ground, a mixture of numerous octaves and bestial bellows exerting at once.

From the bodies of 7 witchbeasts created the Flesh Golem, a lump of flesh come to life. While having the same hulking frame as mud golems, its visceral anatomy stood out the most. Disproportionate but bulky arms that hung from massive shoulders were lined with the spikes that belonged to the hellhounds' body. Four-fingered hands ended in claws measuring a dozen inches in length. A chest, while muscular, was lined with 4 mouths in a messy arrangement, one vertical, another diagonal while the rest are horizontal. The left leg belonged to the limbs of 5 witchbeasts meshed together, ending with a seven-toed foot that resembled a bear's paw. The right leg was a bulk of muscle ending with a four-toed foot, skinless and gaping as a mouth found on the thigh sneered.

As it turned towards Ram, who would have taken a long step back had she not being disabled from movement, its fleshly hand grabbed her tiny frame by the waist and moved in deceptive speeds despite its massive build as it hobbled and jumped awkwardly with its uneven anatomy.

It _laughed _all the way as it maintained it kept a safe distance from the battle that the Pale One jumped into.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The witchbeasts firmly had their attention on him, and it made them susceptible to the wrath of the iron ball wielded by the demon maid they now ignored. He and Mother doesn't need to fight back. He will just have to herd them. Draw the dogs towards the murderous entity holding the flail or work as bait to draw their eyes from it, utilizing the Scent of the Witch as an effective tool to the fight.

His gleeful smile never left him as he kept his arms crossed to his chest and held perfectly still. Mother's frame remained parallel to the ground, 6 metallic limbs moving in blurs as she skittered and slipped through the ranks of witchbeasts while barely evading the jaws, claws and strikes of the iron ball. The mutts were practically climbing over each other to kill him, and that made them easy to decimate in one blow for the little sister. There were moments where he was right beneath the maid herself and narrowly escaped her wrath.

All in all, he was enjoying this.

Amidst this tomfoolery that had his life at risk, there was another commotion happening. No one ever noticed it happening, his body language showing no indication of its occurrence either, and it was nothing short of heated.

_[Just what the hell are you doing!? You're going to get us killed!]_

_[Hey, isn't that what you've been aiming for all this time!? Besides, I never knew risking your neck like this could be so _fun_! Wait, you got your neck ripped off. Sorry!]_

Two entities were rioting, deep within the vessel that was Emurdol Viandegroc. While the maneuver of the battle was ongoing, there was shouting and screaming in a realm that was outside the Void, the Spirit Realm and the Living Realm.

_[Who _told _you to take over my body!? Since when have I ever ALLOWED you to do so!?]_

_[You never had! Not even once since you imprisoned me in that wand! I already got Mama's permission so I don't need yours!]_

_[WHAT!?]_

_[You heard me! Mama _allowed _me to possess you _and _help you outta this! You're running out of options, aren't you!? Your army's annihilated, and the little bitch's getting overwhelmed as well! I'm doing this the best I can!]_

_[I didn't _ask _you to help me!]_

_[Well, helping people who need it without them asking is a good thing, yes!? Come on, give me some credit for going out of my way to lend my Brother a kind hand of assistance!]_

_[You just want to indulge in my body!]_

_[And that kills two demons with one bone spear! Come _on_, I haven't had a physical body for nearly a decade! At least spoil me this much!]_

_[You _know _the reason why I WON'T! Do not even think I forgot about what you did to me!]_

_[By the Dragon, you're still sour over that!? That's in the damn past, get over it! Holding onto grudges is not what the Elders taught you! Aren't you supposed to be above the pettiness of **Morons**!?**]**_

_[Don't you _dare _lecture me about what the Elders taught me! _YOU_ WERE THE ONE WHO—]_

_[Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I'm going to do something amazing!]_

_[Don't you even_ dare_ shut me up, you fucking—!]_

Scaling across the side of the cliff like a spider, he watched the hellhounds chasing after him unable to climb the stone wall and are immediately obliterated by the rampaging demon behind them. Throughout the entire spectral argument, the witchbeasts' numbers were lessened to a great extent, the herding tactic perfectly utilized that he could leave the little sister to fend for herself without worrying about her getting overwhelmed again thanks to the now-lesser number of enemies to kill.

Leaving her to finish off what's left of the pack, Mother brought him back to the Flesh Golem holding the Fair Maid in its fleshly hand and lifted at shoulder level. Ram's head was poking in-between the gaps of the index and the middle finger, the thumb and ring finger circling around her waist to keep her from falling while her four limbs hung limply. Not exactly the politest way for a golem of whatever design to hold a woman. He proceeded to smile at her with a tilted head, his bloodstained white locks hanging to the side.

"EnJoYiNg ThE vIeW fRoM aBoVe?" The abomination asked in his stead, 7 mouths moving and speaking in unison under multiple octaves and releasing grisly syllables.

"I underestimated the amount of things you could do that would repulse even the calm and collected Ram." She replied weakly, but the bluntness in her tone never wavered.

"HaHa!" His mouth moved in tandem to the grotesque dialogue, his body bending backwards in ecstasy as he relished the words entering his ears uttered by that feminine voice, "LiStEnInG tO yOuR vOiCe In PeRsOn Is JuSt _AmAzInG_! AaH! lIvInG iS sO sUpReMe, IsN't It!?"

"If you have time to listen to Ram's wonderful voice, you should be focusing on bringing Rem. I barely see any progress done."

Righting his posture, his grin widened as he held up one finger, "I hAvE tHe PlAn To Do JuSt ThAt!" He spun sharply to face the little sister once more, having killed the last of the witchbeasts attacking her and slowly turned to point a gaze full of bloodlust aimed at him. The Golem snickered, an unnerving and disgusting sound, "Do Me A fAvOr AnD bRaCe YoUrSeLf, YeS?"

"What do you plan to do?"

The Golem adjusted its stance, as if preparing to attack while maintaining its grip on Ram. The 7 mouths licked their teeth in anticipation, he licked his lips in the same impression. "_TuNnEl ViSiOn_."

_[Wait.]_

Time slowed down as the owner of Emurdol's vessel spoke up, lacking its recent vitriol and speaking in a sensible tone. The world moved with the littlest pace in the perceptions of the entities so they could speak in peace. The enthusiasm of the newcomer was gone, in its place was a grimace that could equally match the other.

_[Just why? Why are you suddenly doing all this for me? What did you expect to happen when you assumed control?]_

_[….You see, I had to prevent Mama from taking over you instead. She sees that you're having trouble and in need of help and would have done so once your guard slipped. But I knew that if she takes over your body, she'll kill the little bitch along with everything else. I know that you don't want that so I reasoned with her until she employed me to take your place. I, of course, genuinely wanted to help you out with my ideas that _don't _involve knocking you out of consciousness and did as soon as I got her permission.]_

_[….]_

_[I know you got questions, and I'm very aware as you are that she's acting out of character but now is not the time. Surrender to me for a while, and I will try to get the job done for you the best I could. I'll return control to you as soon as it's over.]_

_[…]_

_[Well?]_

_[…Do anything out of hand and you will never see the Afterlife ever again!]_

_[I know, I know. I still wish to Go Home as much as you do, along with everybody. Killing the little bitch is forbidden and the big sister must be kept alive, I already understood that so don't you worry.]_

_[Tch…..whatever. Just commence this plan of yours, whatever it is.]_

_[Yes, Brother!]_

Time went back to its original pace and the abomination moved into motion, screaming gleefully. "**HeEeErRrRe YoU _GO_!"**

Defying all common sense, the Flesh Golem reared the hand holding the petite body back and _threw _the Fair Maid like a ball towards the little sister. The Pale One looked on in spectating glee, eyeing the facial expressions of the white-horned demon closely. Bloodlust disappeared, killing intent sapping out like an afterthought to be replaced with a softer expression as she dropped her weapon, opening her bloodstained arms and receiving her thrown sister.

"GoTcHa."

Tunnel her vision with her precious flesh and blood gathering all her attention just to send her mindset temporarily outside the battlefield. That unguarded lapse was all he needed, and she never saw his attack coming.

The skeleton he created from the witchbeasts killed by the flail and buried beneath the ground suddenly breached out in springing speeds and slugged her white horn with a well-aimed skeletal fist. Head twisted to the side, immediately unconscious, brought down by a single hit to the most vital area in her demon form.

_[_That_ was the Plan? To _throw_ the Fair Maid? Tch. Utterly stupid.]_

_[Hey. You would have thought up the same plan yourself if you had your composure with you.]_

_[Silence. Just what do you know about me?]_

_[A _lot_, actually. I said so last night, didn't I? I watched you live your life for so long to the point that I could predict how you think. That goes for the rest. They know as much as I do.]_

_[Haaaaah….]_

He, the skeleton and the Golem took their cue to dash forward, past the collapsed forms of the sisters and began clearing out the field. The abomination hobbled towards the remaining witchbeasts in a hungry frenzy, the ivory warrior charged a lone dog with a ferocious rage, he threw himself towards a cute little puppy, the Alpha. It thought it could hide using its miniature size, but he never let it escape his sight ever since taking control of Emurdol's body and seeing it hide beneath the underbellies of the witchbeasts earlier. With his sudden arrival close to its proximity, it was too surprised at his sudden appearance and was too late to evade a kris burying itself to its small body.

The skewered puppy held aloft in his left hand to the sky, he flung its tiny corpse away to a certain distance. He was not surprised to see it curl, almost agonizingly on the ground, and suddenly enlarge in an explosive rate into a gargantuan Ulgarm, glaring at him with bright glowing red eyes. The wound he gave on its gut was quite tiny compared to its great size.

_[How predictable.]_

_[Indeed, Brother. Just like the Hosts, deceptively-innocent humans or animals possessed by Hellspawn, suddenly turning into big ugly bastards when they're going to give their all or are close to death just like this one.]_

_[It does not matter what it is. Just kill it.]_

_[With pleasure.]_

With a simple smile, he lifted a right hand at his face's level, middle finger and thumb together, the index finger pointed up. The Alpha growled like a rumbling thundercloud, shaking the earth with its reverberating song. They weren't quite far from each other. Just one light pounce from the witchbeast or 5 steps forward from himself, they would be chest to head. But the former had an advantage with the range of its barrel-like limbs, containing enough strength to bisect a man with a mere graze using its massive claws. If it simply reached forward, it would reach his head and lop it off his body.

But when a Priest of the Serpent is nearby a corpse, especially when there's a grand number of witchbeast bodies littering the entire clearing right behind him, it is clear who has the greater advantage between the two.

The sooner the Alpha lifted its paw just the slightest, his spell was already finished.

He snapped his fingers.

From every dead witchbeast, from the ones who were whole to the ones who were barely recognizable as a pile of blood, organs and gray matter, they exploded in a spectacular cloud of pure crimson behind him, only to be overshadowed by the innumerable hail of sharp ivory escaping their vessels and sailing towards the Ulgarm's massive frame with dangerous speeds.

Without mercy, the entire front of the gargantuan witchbeast was riddled with lethal bones, filling every space possible that there wasn't a trace of its hide in sight. While it stood dumbfounded at what happened to itself for just a few seconds, the unrecognizable heap slowly toppled and fell on its side, practically bleeding a lake from the thousands of openings.

Everything in a single instant.

_[Pathetic.]_

_[Pathetic, indeed.]_

The magic was costly but he still has more energy to spare, even drained the beast's mana while it was in paralyzed shock before dying. Exhausting, yes, but not enough to tire him out completely. So long as there's mana in his core, he can last for as long as his stamina could allow him.

It would be fun to grind the body in mechanical cruelty using the bones impaled to it but that would be a waste of good flesh.

Returning the kris to Mother and turning around, he beheld his Flesh Golem gathering its kills in a pile, and feasting on their boneless remains with its 7 mouths, with the skeleton dragging more bodies to the pantry like a butler, practically bathing itself with their blood as the crimson liquid seeped out of every toothy maw and ran down its fleshly body. The sound of flesh being chewed and minced was pleasing, arousing and spine-curdling all at once, even to himself.

Aside from its girth increasing, it seemed to have grown 3 extra arms without him noticing, using the consumed meat as extra mass to develop further. Each were lean rather than bulky compared to its regular pair but they were equally fleshly, skinless and lethal, muscle fibers exposed and visibly tense. One was located at the left shoulder blade, reaching over the shoulders to pick at organs and feed it to nearby mouths. The second was found at the middle of its spine, larger than the first, having 2 elbows and an absurd reach capable of touching its chest. The third was found in its left wrist, smaller-sized than the rest and functioned more as a large finger for the left hand.

_[I haven't created a golem of that type for a long time.]_

_[Yes. Too fragile compared to Stone Golems and prone to whining if not fed its quota of bodies. But with these many witchbeasts, I doubt we'll hear any complaint from it. Besides, it's much more agile and smarter.]_

_[Haaah…whatever. Proceed with taking the sisters out of this damn forest. The Alpha may be dead but witchbeasts are still coming. There's no end to them at all.]_

Nodding to the command, he walked over to the sisters. One was conscious and having regained enough strength to kneel, the other was completely knocked out and likely unable to come to for a few days. The Fair Maid's wary gaze never left him once he was the closest to her instead of the abomination just 6 feet away eating the boneless dead.

She spoke in a composed tone as always, but the smartly-veiled alarm in her eyes could not be hidden. Not to a Priest of the Serpent, that is. "It is clear that you are not the man named Emurdol Viandegroc. The look in your eyes says it all."

The Golem stopped feasting, paying attention to the proceedings without turning around while he gave a small smile to the Fair Maid with his sharp teeth slightly showing through and saying nothing as he crossed his arms, the 4 metallic hands following suit by crossing one pair behind his back while the other simply interlocked fingers behind his waist.

"Who _are _you underneath the flesh and bones? Ram wants to know."

_[….]_

_[…..Go ahead. Greet her. It doesn't matter even if she knows.]_

Grinning even wider, he clapped a strange but familiar rhythm with his clawed gauntlets before he bowed exaggeratingly, upper body leant forward, completely diagonal to the ground and arms spread to the side, head deeply bowed that it literally hung from his neck as his blood-splattered white locks overflowed to the ground.

"AlLoW mE tO eXpReSs My SaLuTaTiOnS tO yOu FoR tHe VeRy FiRsT tImE, _fAiR mAiD_." The abomination's mocking tone as soon as that familiar nickname was used could not be hidden as it spoke in his stead. It wasn't possible with so many octaves speaking at once.

"I aM a PrIeSt Of ThE oRdEr Of ThE sErPeNt, ThE lEfT hOrN oF tHe DrAgOn." His head slowly raised up and a horrifying smile was seen through the gaps of his bloody locks, eyes flashing green from the shadow of his brow.

"Viandegroc, and Viandegroc alone." Only one mouth and one octave finished the introduction. The voice of a youthful male barely past his 14th turn. "The pleasure is all mine, _Handicap."_

The Left Horn of the Dragon finally conveyed his name to the Living World.


	10. Flesh Golem

"Utterly unbelievable."

He rolled his eyes, his smirking lips managing to last since leaving the bottom of the cliff littered with hundreds of witchbeast bodies till now. "Your uselessness is unbelievable." The Flesh Golem replied nonchalantly with one mouth, the fitting tone and inflexion speaking on his behalf. It had been trailing close behind the Fair Maid as they walked, a half of a hellhound's body hanging from the mouth on its left shoulder blade as it crawled and dragged.

"Can you blame Ram? Rem is currently burdening my hands."

"Now you know how he felt when you suddenly collapsed and forced Brother to run with his damn tail between Mama's legs." He gave her an imperious leer mixing with malice, casually walking over piles of meat that was once a whole witchbeast without looking. "You're utterly useless, Handicap. Why didn't he just drain your mana, cut your tendons and tie your behind to a post in the village so you wouldn't be burdening anybody like this the sooner he saw you following him? Brother and I could have done this all on our own."

"You wouldn't have known how to incapacitate Rem without Ram's help." She retorted, ignoring the sound of the piles of meat being eaten behind her, "How would you like it if you were in charge of carrying Rem?"

"HA!" That scoff was a thunderous sound, and thanks to the close proximity between her and the Flesh Golem, it made her ears ring. "He may not have figured it out but I already did, _several days ago_ if I may add. I passed the information to Mama before she left the Little Bitch's body at the bottom of the stairs, strangling herself the next morning."

The Flesh Golem stopped dragging itself before the two humans suddenly stopped walking upon exposing his involvement in that incident, shoes and skeletal feet sliding across the soil from the momentum. He turned a wicked smile at Ram, eyes burning bright green in the darkening dusk. The Fair Maid met that look with a hateful glare, righteous indignance flaring up in her heart. If she wasn't holding her little sister, she would be releasing violent waves of wind magic the sooner he finished speaking.

"It was _you_." She dangerously remarked, mana forcefully compressed from escaping her form lest she suffer another mana burn.

The walking hunk of flesh that loomed behind her was also a concern as well, including the other entity that's out of sight.

"YeS." The abomination began to speak in all 7 mouths, sending uncomfortable chills down her spine as it was literally resonating right behind her. The prickles on her neck indicated that there were sharp claws ready to impale both her and her cargo at the slightest misstep. "MaMa AnD i WeRe ReSpOnSiBlE fOr HeR sTaTe ThAt MoRnInG. bRoThEr HaD nOtHiNg To Do WiTh It, SlEePiNg ThE wHoLe TiMe LiKe YoU dId."

As she blinked, he was suddenly right at her face, a gust of wind following after his sudden close-up. It took much of her willpower not to flinch at the abrupt close-proximity of his horrifying smile that literally allowed their noses to touch. She stared deeply into his deep pools of green, burning like the green pits of the burning hells.

Amusement sparkled in his orbs for her feat of composure, "It WaSn'T wItHoUt ReAsOn, Of CoUrSe." He then leaned away. He wasn't smiling anymore but his sharp teeth were still visible, and the malice clear in his eyes. The tone of the Golem wasn't provoking anymore, merely factual but no less hostile. "We WeRe MiNdInG oUr OwN bUsInEsS aNd SuDdEnLy, An IrOn BaLl Of SpIkEs CoMeS fLyInG tOwArDs Us. He BaReLy WaRrAnTeD sUcH a ViOlEnT gReEtInG. eVeN iF hE sNaPpEd At HeR oUt Of AnNoYaNce, ThAt WaSn'T eNoUgH tO eArN sUcH a ThInG. iF i HaD tOlD hIm ThIs EaRlIeR….wOuLd KiLlInG hEr Be UnJusTiFiEd ThEn?"

Her beautiful features furrowed, finding no possible reply to that. She had the same assumption as well, despite evidence on the contrary when he was found sleeping on the gazebo the next morning. She had believed it to be a dream just as when Rem told her of what she could remember but she had the inkling of doubt. She should have trusted it a little more.

"We HaVe ShOwN mErCy MuLtIpLe TiMeS nOw. I sTiLl HaVe EnOuGh MeRcY iN mE, bUt MaMa AnD bRoThEr No LoNgEr Do. HoWeVeR, cOnSiDeRiNg He HaSn'T rEsUrFaCeD eVen ThOuGh He CoUlD hAvE dOnE sO eArLiEr AnD pUnIsHeD hEr, He StIlL hAs A lItTlE mOrE tO sPaRe."

Then his sharp set of teeth disappeared into his mouth. And this time, she _did _flinch.

"But I will not suffer another millisecond of any more distrust being thrown Brother's way. He's worked hard to earn _anybody's_ trust before just to survive in a place that hates us, and now he's already considered suicide because that waste of flesh you call a _Little Sister _pushed him too far. Seeking death because of despair instead of our Final Service? That is _not _how we are, and yet _SHE _MADE HIM THAT WAY!"

Anger. Simple anger. That was all there is to see in the Pale One's face. A standard display of emotion, but to see something else besides blatant malevolence that lasted since meeting him threw Ram off. It made him look…._human._

He sharply turned around and began walking onwards back to the village, having no interest in looking at her shocked expression any further.

"About your question earlier, I will _still _be capable even without Mama's extra hands or if my hands are full. Alive or dead, your sister's body is still a handy tool for Necromagi like me and Brother to use."

And just like that, he lapsed back to his usual self and provoked her ire with blatant nonchalance.

Ram shook her head to regain her composure before walking after him, with the Golem _silently _staying close. The prickles on her neck didn't leave. She wasn't sure if the claws were still there, pointed at Rem who was piggybacked but she won't dare turn around. Having eaten more than a hundred corpses as well as the giant Ulgarm, the abomination had become something four times more repulsive than it already had. Looking at it is the last thing on her mind.

They were not running anymore compared to earlier, and despite the lack of hurry, there wasn't a single trace of trouble that came their way ever since the frame of bones that was ever lovingly referred to as 'Mother' or 'Mama' separated from her son's body and went off on her own an hour ago, sickles and krises held as they glinted in the sinking sunlight on the horizon.

Without a physical body secured to her, her strength isn't reinforced and brought down by half. She won't be capable of taking on a crowd and winning. In exchange, she's faster than she could manage with her son. And much more lethal. Going rogue had been an occurrence more than a hundred times for her, and sometimes a sleeping Emurdol never notices she was gone the entire daytime, gone to eliminate his potential murderers and returning to his side before dusk arrives.

Subtlety is a must in such an endeavor, making sure that every victim is not traced to a Priest of the Serpent and instead aimed at a phantom killer. So quick and silent the procedure she would perform to take a life. A snap of a neck, a swift beheading, or even poisoning. A staged 'accident' is a generally preferred option. No one would be certain of her presence there. She was light in her steps, not a single sound despite the weighty metals in her frame and barely visible when she formerly had black bones.

A vicious Wraith clad in ivory and metal in the night, a reaper gathering her quota in every visit. And now, she's using the same expertise reserved for the harvest in tonight's task. Clear the passages Viandegroc and Ram will take of any witchbeast.

Viandegroc himself created a pair of skeletal legs to compensate his vessel's lack of it. Rather than regular spindly femurs, they were fashioned with ligaments and tendons, added with 2 layers of muscle stolen from witchbeast corpses to protect the frame until the ankles and below where it remained skeletal. He said it was for the sake of jumping and running ability than a cheap form of regeneration.

Ram finally decided to mention the results of this temporary separation. "It's been quiet. We're still in their habitat, yet there hasn't been any witchbeasts."

"Then that means she's doing a very good job. I smell nothing but blood everywhere we go, and the Alpha is dead as well. Since night is just a few minutes close by, it gets better from there. She will be just like the Witch Hunters."

The term drew Ram's full attention, "Witch Hunters."

"One of the Order of the Serpent's natural enemies." The Golem's tone was comparable to describing an animal he hated. "Nimble. Fast. Invisible in the darkness. And generally an annoyance. They comprise of the loneliest individuals who lost their loved ones to corrupted mages and swore revenge on all Warlocks, only to make it a profession the sooner they are taken in. Apparently, we're considered _Evil _in their eyes."

"Actually, considering the impression I've gotten from you so far, that would not be a stretch of the description."

"And now you sound just like every idiot Brother met. We used somebody's dead body as a component for our weapons, does that automatically make us evil? Honestly, morals are sometimes full of shit. You morons don't know anything about what the Soul approves or not."

"Are you saying you would use even the remains of your relatives?"

He shot her the most exasperated look on his face, "If that wasn't obvious enough already with Mama, _yes we do_. Most of the fragments of her bones are inside those arms and legs, and this knife." He showed her his bone knife, stained black with dry blood all over except for the area near the point. "He made it from my _skull_, and as you can see, he's been using it well these years. Hmm, he should have added components of the femur instead of just the spine. Maybe a little more of my ribcage as well."

She just realized that this man was actually the man named Emurdol himself, currently possessed by another entity who refers to himself by his last name. It baffled her to forget that it used to be occupied by a man with a straightforward demeanor and an equally dark sense of humor.

He had said something about 'Souls' occupying his wand before, didn't he?

She eyed the object in question held in his right hand, eyes of the skull adorning the top lightly glowing green.

"If you are wondering if I'm an occupant in this wand, you are absolutely correct."

It seems this current occupant retains the vessel's original knack of noticing other people's stares without looking back at them, even if it's not directed at him.

"How is he still sane with _you _in his thoughts?"

"It's mandatory for Priests of the Serpent to be trained in mind and spirit to withstand Souls muddling our minds with their thoughts and influence. We may have the Spirits of our dearly beloved relatives close to us all the time but—" He kicked a witchbeast's dismembered head close to his feet into the distance before continuing. "—once we step out of the Underground City, there will be more souls than we could tolerate if we do not earn any development. Of course, that sort of thing begins in our childhood."

"How is mental fortitude developed in your younger years then?"

He looked over his shoulder to give her a wink and a middle finger pointed at his open eye, smiling wickedly. "Bluntly put, _eye-plucking_."

Yet another thing coming from the so-called 'Priest of the Serpent' that repulsed her.

He turned to face forward before beginning to elaborate, "More often than not, because of the environment they are raised in, our little ones are born with the tendency to become sociopathic or misanthropic in their later years. They do value familial relations as much as the other but if they step out into the world without learning how to value mortal life as well, they will indiscriminately annihilate any human life they see."

"Ram questions your people's parenting skills if they have to resort to extracting one of their essential senses in order to rectify something like that."

"Our environment may be dangerous for little ones but our parenting skills compensates more than enough. The Souls themselves get involved as well." He transferred the knife in his left hand to the right alongside the wand to scratch his head, "While our living showers them with love and affection, our Dead will feed them the wisdom they learned in their living life, substantially maturing them in a faster rate. Of course, telling a child whose mind has barely developed to focus on living a meaningful life while saying nothing but curse words for the idiots Above-World who waste their time in stagnation indulging in the flesh, killing each other for the sake of power and resources instead of sharing it, it will not always work as intended. They will grow up as self-righteous fools who thinks they are above everything in existence because they were enlightened by us at a young age, among other things. That is the highest form of hypocrisy."

"And that's when their eyes are plucked out?"

"Yes."

"Would you be so kind as to tell Ram how that helps them grow up into strong and mature men and women?"

"We make them see the bigger picture of being a mortal, in darkness." Whether he noticed the sarcasm or not, he didn't show it. "Without their eyes, their freedom is limited. And when their freedom is limited, they have more time to think and contemplate instead of planning genocide before they are ordained a Priest. In our environment, the dead will be there to keep you company more often than your living parents. Through them, they begin lecturing you nonstop for your shallow thoughts. Some take it well, some….don't. They suffer from the mental stress of so many voices going through their heads, not knowing if it was their own or not." His body language shifted, almost implying discomfort.

"Both Brother and I suffered the same thing. After having our eyes removed, we scream every so often, telling the Dead to shut up when they don't even have a mouth to do such a thing. Resorting to suicide wasn't new among those in our position so we were immobilized before we have done the deed just to end it."

He visibly shuddered. He clearly hated the experience, almost traumatized.

"Blind and now incapable of free movement, our minds inevitably broke in a matter of hours, rendering us as unmoving and unresponsive shells, incapable of telling apart whether what we hear is happening in the Physical World or the Spectral one because we can't see a damn thing." He then fell silent, lasting that way for more than a minute. When Ram thought he was not going to say anymore, he suddenly raised up a finger, "But because of that, we learned the meaning of suffering, and our empathy is born. Gradually, through the lectures of our Dead, we discover the significance of our mortality as well as that of others and recover our self-awareness. After developing our other senses, we are given our eyes back."

"And self-awareness allows you to withstand the stress of many voices going through your head?"

He nodded. "_Withstand_ would not be the right word but yes. Knowing yourself, accepting yourself and earning closure with the ways of the world allows you to separate the thoughts of the Dead from your own. Once you do, you can finally say a retort back at them after being ridiculed for your immaturity for so long. Self-actualization is something you Above-Worlders couldn't boast about unless you reached your senior years, where you are close to your death that you realize how much you wasted your life on useless things." He turned a rather impressed look towards her, a twinge of admiration twinkling from his green orbs. "Though, you are one of the exceptions."

"Of course. The cute and wonderful Ram is perfect the way she is."

A mirthful chuckle escaped from the Flesh Golem, the youthful voice starting to become affectionate, "Not the slightest hesitation and yet not the slightest hint of bravado. Brother was right to consider you worthy of respect besides your familial devotion."

The prickles in her neck were gone and the Golem's presence behind her wasn't so oppressive anymore, now having the same level of threat as a fly, having almost little to no presence to be felt, and not in an unsettling way either.

For once, she finally felt _safe_ in the presence of the man called Viandegroc.

By the way…

"By the way, you refer to yourself as Viandegroc. That's the Ser's last name. Do you not have a first name? Or is that a first name you picked for yourself because you lost your sense of self in death?"

"About time you asked. And no, you're wrong." His tired tone actually implied that he's been _waiting _for her to ask something like that since he said his name, "Allow me to inform you of a few things first: I am not related to Emurdol in any way despite my calling him of Brother. The names of my people aren't like yours. And lastly, we _don't _have last names." The wand started glowing a little brighter. His tone carried the tiniest smidge of hesitation that was barely noticeable in the next sentence, "Back then….before I could be ordained as a Priest….Emurdol killed me….and I don't blame him. I won't speak any more than that. If you want the whole story, ask from him yourself."

The wand reduced back to a dim glow.

Ram maintained her gaze on it for a few seconds before asking, "Basically, he took your name after killing you as a form of remembrance?"

"More or less. It's amazing how quickly you caught on to that, Little Girl." He didn't sound impressed, however. "Our names are derived from the anatomy of our deity, Vra'UgThol. The Great Dragon that created the cosmos by disintegrating Her own physical body, creating the world, the moon, the sun, and the stars with Her scattered parts, watching over all from beyond the Realm of Existence."

"Then could you explain why is your organization called the Order of the _Serpent_? Ram couldn't help but think of blasphemy."

"That's merely a representation. If a Dragon watches from the sky in vigil, then the Serpent hunts on the ground to feed. A Wyrmm exists to nourish others as well as itself, and eventually breach the surface to decide its own future."

"The Dragon as your god. The Serpent as your warriors. And the Wyrmm as your civilians." She enumerated, "A fascinating structure, honestly speaking. Are they merely labels or is it a form of hierarchy?"

"The former. We _despise _Above-World structures. 'All humans are equal', that is what we firmly believe in. You morons and your customs are full of bullshit. In our society, everyone is separated only by their capability and competence, _nothing more_." The strong amount of emphasis put in those two words struck something in Ram. She couldn't understand why, "As to why it's by those labels, it is because there are actually _so _many theories regarding what Vra'UgThol actually looks like. Some say She had wings. Some say She had 4 hands and 6 legs. Some say She had a serpentine body. Some say She had 700 horns. Some say She has 7 fingers on each hand. Some would even say She had 7 heads instead. No one can be really sure since we never existed before Everything came to be." He looked to the side, his eyes looking pointedly at something past dense shrubs. When Ram looked, she saw nothing. "I believe that Vra'UgThol had a body that is so long it doesn't seem to end. She had 2 horns, 2 arms and legs, 5 fingers and toes, and does not have any wings. A simple aesthetic not unlike the reptiles in the desert. And from there, my name is found."

"The Left Horn of the Dragon." Ram remembered. "Assuming Common isn't your first language, Viandegroc is a translation for Left Horn, yes?"

"Correct again." A snap of his left fingers. "We have a mother tongue, and Common is something we learn before leaving Underground. No one would _dare_ refer to their children as something as conspicuous as a horn, an eye or even a whole arm unless they earn it. We start out small upon birth. I was once referred to as the 135th vertebra while Brother was once a quill found at the end of the tail."

"Pitiful is the person who earned the name indicating the nether regions then."

There was snorting from his throat, then the night erupted into noise as the Flesh Golem _exploded _to laughter behind her, all 7 mouths guffawing raucously that sent every dozing wildlife scattering or flying away from their homes while squawking. The octaves _echoed _into the distance like continuous explosions, it even shook the ground with its voices. She could even hear one of its hands pounding the soil from its mirth. It would have sent another wave of witchbeasts to their location if it weren't for the Reaper of white ivory and black steel holding vigil.

If it wasn't for her expecting him to find it funny _and _remembering that he can't let out a sound, she would have blown her eardrums from her close-proximity with the Abomination. She bolted several steps forward till he was right behind the Pale One, who was curling his body, holding his stomach and cackling silently, his entire frame shaking.

Several _minutes _after slapping his knee and even collapsing to the ground, wheezing and convulsing as if possessed by an evil spirit, all his mirth was spent as he regained composure, rose up to his feet and straightened his posture. He turned to face her, eyes full of tears and smiling widely, as if discovering the joy of laughter and _real _humor for the first time. "Ironically, whoever earned that name is considered the most _Prodigious _Priest or Priestess to ever live in this side of the Realm."

It amazed her that he managed to maintain a proper mindset to answer her question after laughing at such a level that no human is capable of.

Still maintaining a wide and happy smile, he continued explaining, "The last time someone earned such a privileged name, he took his Final Rest _right_ _before_ I was born. His Spirit went to the Afterlife and back, earned the respect of the Southern Seers, and even achieved _7_ Significant Feats of the Mother. His apprentices spoke very highly of him as well and instead of seeking death after his Final Service, he went back Underground to settle down and pass on peacefully. He was a _Paragon _of the Way of the Serpent."

There was so much admiration lacing every word, it was almost childlike that it actually instilled the same impression he had to Ram and have her genuinely interested to know something despite herself, "And his name?"

As Viandegroc, his eyes flashed for the first time, an eager glint that perfectly matched his mental age.

"U..uh…gh…"

Before he could tell the identity of his idol, a different sound arrived behind her. The childlike smile disappeared, and a dark look clouded over him entirely, from facial expression to body language. Green eyes became a raging bonfire from the playful light, the wrinkles on his forehead and in-between his eyes further pronounced by his scowl, and his mood is visibly no longer amicable. The wand on his hand glowed brightly too.

A monstrous voice flowed into her ears, **"Come on." **The Golem wasn't speaking for him anymore, the Abomination in question was no longer there behind her either. She wasn't sure when it had disappeared nor how it escaped her notice. **"The Village is nearby."**

What unsettled her was that she wasn't sure if it was Viandegroc or the owner of the vessel himself talking.

He took off without another word, his running pace almost implying as if he was trying to get away from the two of them. He easily disappeared in the shrubs, his light-eating robes practically turning him invisible in the shadowy forest.

She pursed her lips and broke into a sprint, unsure why she was trying to reach him instead of the village.

"D…Dear Sister…where….what's going on?"

She chuckled lightly, a rare smile of fondness coloring her features as she reached up to caress her beloved little sister's unkempt hair. "Oh Rem, you are such a high-maintenance girl. He and Ram have to go through so much just to pick up after you."

"He? Ser….Ser Emurdol…ho…how is he…? Is he alright?"

"He is. Don't worry. He…oh well, _he's _cleared out a sizable number of witchbeasts when we ran into the forest to get you out. Given that it's more than half a day now while he's still alive, the ones responsible for those curses have likely died. In a way, your plan succeeded."

There wasn't a reply. Rem merely rested her forehead on Ram's shoulder, her head practically next to her sister's, and that allowed a murmur to be heard. "Why?" Pursing her lips, the big sister didn't question it and instead kept running.

She can see the village ahead, lit once again by bonfires to fight back the night, likely awaiting their return. How anxious they must have been, seeing their Lord's retainers run into the dangerous forest and barely back before dark. Explaining this to Lord Roswaal will take—

She slid to a stop the sooner she noticed that she was just about to run past the Pale One, who leant against the base of the tree that held a crystal barrier and would have been left unseen thanks to the arriving night and his robes turning him into a living shadow as he is embraced by the coming darkness if not for the pale flesh on his face that practically gave a glint not unlike a ray of moonlight on the corner of her vision.

His arms crossed over his chest, motionless as the tree behind him that he almost resembled a corpse on the coffin, with his white locks now black from dry bloodstains, he barely acknowledged anybody's existence, even if she was standing right in front of him where he could be touched if she just reached with one hand.

"You will not head back in?"

His head did the smallest movements as he shook his head, his locks barely swishing in the little motion. His eyes are not seen but there was a noticeable shine of green on the visible pale flesh in-between the gaps, **"Do remember what will happen once **_**he's **_**in the same vicinity with your cargo in there."**

He'll kill Rem, and force Ram to watch. That's basically what he's implying. Lady Beatrice had warned her of this.

Her throat hitched at the crucial information reminded to her, suddenly defensive as she stood stiffly before him. She was levelheaded enough to notice that he's _preventing _that outcome himself from happening by _not _heading in. Whether it was a mutually-agreed action with the owner of the vessel or something independent, she wasn't sure.

Maintaining her composure, she asked, sparing a glance to Earlham Village, "What will you do then?"

**"Continue where Brother left off. He came here to Purge, I intend on seeing it through with him." **The eldritch voice barely had any spirit that matched the vessel's current user of youthful demeanor. Merely resigned, and the smallest undertone of bitterness. **"We'll see to the culling of every single witchbeast in this forest to grant a bit of safety in this domain, or at least I know that's what Brother would want."**

She frowned. She saw nothing but the lack of freewill in that sentence. Viandegroc wasn't doing this out of his own initiative at all. "Even with your power, Ram doubts that you could manage it. There's only so much you could do for such a task."

**"Whether he and I manage it or not, whether he and I live in the aftermath or not, does **_**not **_**matter."** His left fist on his crossed-arms clenched even tighter, the metal creaking slightly. **"He wants nothing to do with this place anymore. It does nothing but deliver bad memories to him. Constant betrayal and suspicion has been the norm of his daily life, I intend to deviate or free him from it now. If I can take him to a place that wholeheartedly accepts him as another human, or to die and free him of this disgusting Realm, that shall be done."**

"S..s…" Ram turned her head to the side, facing her little sister who was trying to raise her head up as if it weighed like iron just to look at him, "Ser…"

The Pale One's head snapped up, stained white locks floating as if underwater and the powerful glow of fiery green in his eyes shot the most hateful look towards Rem, his hackles raised and his sharp teeth bare to their eyes.

**"**_**Don't**_** you _dare_ talk to me, you little bitch." **Ram felt her wince from her back, as if struck physically by the eldritch voice boiling with all his anger. **"Did you have the fucking **_**right **_**to open that fucking yap of yours in front of me or Brother anymore? Do you even have the right to be **_**concerned **_**about Brother anymore? Because of you, Brother's voice is gone!"**

He stomped up right up to Ram, looking at the little sister's face all the while, raking his clawed gauntlet across the large scar on his neck, leaving bleeding lines on the pale flesh, "**Do you see **_**this**_**!? **_**This**_** happened because he ran in to get you out! He **_**told **_**you to stay in the village! He said that because you were cursed! He knew you could get hurt while you are! His skeletons were ordered to kill **_**anything **_**they see in that forest! He was **_**concerned**_**! The sooner he comes back with the seventh child, he planned to cure you of your curse! **_**You**_**, the same person who had nothing but suspicion for him! THE SAME **_**FUCKING **_**PERSON WHO MADE HIM **_**LEAVE**_** FOR THE SAKE OF THE **_**OTHERS**_**! **_**HE RISKED HIS FUCKING LIFE FOR **_**YOUR**_** SAKES!**_**"**

"Ser, that's enough!" Rem shouted.

**"SILENCE!" **She received a backhanded strike from studded knuckles of black steel to the side of her face for her defiance. She lost her grip on Rem and she fell to the ground with a bruising cheek and a bleeding mouth. She moved to be at the defense of her little sister but immediately stopped herself from doing so.

The inside of her cheeks, hooked by a pair of black sickles that tasted of dry blood, ready to extend the corners of her lips if she dares to cast magic. Her eyes, looked over by a pair of immaculate wavy daggers that were aimed directly downwards, primed to render her blind or simply kill her if she ever dares to make the slightest defiance one more time.

The Reaper hovered over her, headless yet she felt the glare of its person. Her arms were pinned by its knees, adorned with bones, skulls and black steel, each weighing as heavy as a whole boulder. In this state, there was nothing she could do to defend Rem in anyway.

The person in question was grabbed by the throat as she lie helpless on the soil, lifted up and pushed against the tree Viandegroc once leaned on. The eldritch voice was free of all restraints, releasing all of its pent up fury, **"Not only that, you forced your sister to walk into danger. If it wasn't for Brother, she'd be **_**dead**_**! How much further must you make others suffer for your actions, huh!? Did you actually think you could do this on your own!? Did you actually think you can cull this forest of all the witchbeasts that cursed him!? Did you plan to repent with your **_**life**_**!? Did you plan to offer your life to the beasts of this forest along with the ones who cursed him!?"**

The forest glowed green and blue. Strong emotions caused abundant pools of mana to erupt from two separate beings, one coming Viandegroc and the other coming from Mother. Ram could feel all the mana in the air being stained with mud, tainted by their influence. It felt like _poison. __If she had a horn and absorbed it, she would have suffered from it._

**"I thought you were better than this, you little bitch! Atoning with your death? That's nothing but a senseless **_**lie**_** all you morons believed in! Agh! All your self-justifications sickens me! What only happens in the aftermath is your Big Sister left all alone in that fucking manor! You **_**ran off**_** because you can't face your faults! Once you die, that's **_**it**_**! You are a corpse to nourish the soil or food for the beasts to live again! Better yet, another corpse for Brother to **_**use**_**! All the meanings behind your death are just illusions! Nothing good will come out of it! Because you are **_**NOT **_**LIKE US!"**

He released his grip on her neck, allowing her to fall on her rear to the soil, leant against the tree with her head down, her bangs clouding her expressions. The liquid that dripped down on her knees, glinting from the moonlight were impossible to miss, even if Ram was lying down with limited view of everything.

**"There is **_**no one**_** who can achieve anything in death except us! Even in our last breath, we still remain in the living world in order to finish whatever must be done! We have long since transcended the laws of life and death, achieving things what many have attempted for centuries! We have long since achieved what the damn church has preached for generations! We achieved enlightenment because of the truths we believe in, especially in death! No one else can do the same! **_**No one else**_**! Not you, **_**especially you**_**! You're not a Priestess of the Serpent, you're just some servant with a horn employed to a damn **_**clown**_**! If you think attempting a cheap imitation of our achievements would earn you my approval or make you like us, you are **_**wrong**_**!"**

In the distance, a bloodcurdling roar was let out, comprising of multiple octaves screaming at once and, judging by the slight vibration of the soil, it was loud enough to shake the earth despite its distance and send the wildlife running away from its source.

Though the Reaper lacked a head, Ram was certain she watched its phantom representation look up and stare at the direction of the howl with a grim air. Viandegroc turned a glare at the same direction as well, losing all interest in continuing his tirade on Rem.

The hooks inside her mouth were removed alongside the daggers and her arms were released, numb due to the lack of circulation from the elbow up. Ram rose up to her feet and hurried to her sister, ignoring the painful bruise on her cheek and walking past the Pale One who was starting to walk away from the village.

Rem was utterly broken. Her eyes now lacking their luster, endlessly tearing from the turmoil wrought by his words. She barely even noticed her elder sister right in front of her, attending to her state if her pulse and breathing is still intact.

Ram quickly placed her to her back again, her hands tightly around Rem's thighs and about to head into the village.

**"Ram."**

She stopped herself immediately upon hearing her name called, for actually the very first time. She turned around, facing him as his gaze remained fixed on the same location of the abominable howl.

**"Tell the girl Emilia that Brother won't be coming back. It was wonderful, meeting a kind soul like her. A moment of peace amidst a life of unrest. His time together with her had been short but he exulted over every moment. You do not understand how much that means for a Priest of the Serpent."**

She heard the heavy emotion of resignation in the eldritch voice, lacking any doubts in the decision he made and firmly resolved to carry it out.

She nodded solemnly, despite her newfound animosity towards him. More than anything, Rem's life mattered more, even more than her own. Even if it's to save her little sister from the inevitable guilt, she had no time nor willingness to console him out of this decision of his.

"No…please….!" She felt the smallest amount of struggle from Rem on her back. Her tone was heavy with despair and desperation, "Ser Emurdol…don't do this…! Rem must—" Ram felt her limbs move, but they gave the littlest tremble, indicating her state of being the handicap among them. Her battle that lasted for more than half a day truly worn her down.

"Rem, please. Don't say anymore. You and Ram know that you can't move. Let him do what he wishes." She had no way to be gentle with her words, and Viandegroc looked like he was not going to stay long. She needed to hurry to the village. It's only a matter of time before the witchbeasts start gathering. "None of us can stop him now."

"…why…?" Her words were stricken with tears and Ram's shoulder was slowly getting wet. "Even after all I did….after all those things…..why did you and Sister come for me? Please…..stop….you don't have to do this…."

A sudden gust of wind and Viandegroc was suddenly in front of her again, his index fingerclaw poking at Rem's forehead.

**"Luggage do not speak."**

A flash of light from his eyes and the little sister was incapacitated once again, slumping on Ram's back.

"Wha—"

The eldritch voice cut her off, **"I merely took the last of her mana from her. Don't worry, her Od is untouched." **Drawing his finger away, he turned to face what's behind him again. **"The bastards suddenly got themselves a new Alpha. Should have known that these curses eating Brother's mana would have strengthened them." **As he said this, he already moved to rid of the spectral diseases on his person in the form of a large black cloud grabbed by his free left hand out of his chest, morphing it into a ball and burying it to the eponymous tree.

A single leaf fell from the branches, followed by more. Its life is being eaten away.

How long has he hid those curses the whole time? And since when was it activated?

**"Now then…"**

"Wait." Before he was about to run into the battle, his wand returning to his left hand, Ram stopped him. "It doesn't matter if you answer on his behalf but Ram has one last question for Ser Emurdol himself: Why? Why did you go through all this despite what Rem has done to you? Ram wants to know too."

In the background, she saw the Reaper turn to face Ram as well. Viandegroc merely sighed. The eldritch voice carried an indescribable tone this time, a mixture of admiration, pride and bitterness.

**"You know the common depiction of a Hero, yes? Selfless, strong, valiant, kind, superhuman, ever so willing to risk his life for another without compensation. He wouldn't even suffer like a human, unburdened by negative emotions. He would always persevere through despair and become the beacon of hope for all. A role model of humanity's best. A type that no one could possibly compare to…."**

She heard Viandegroc sigh. The wand on his left hand beginning to glow a little brighter.

**"Brother was none of that, nor any of the Priests of the Serpent. He is the opposite of what a Hero is. His actions are driven by self-gain. He's not courageous, he simply doesn't know fear. Altruism is a rarity among us. Our bodies might as well be abominations compared to humans, so heavily modified and experimented on that it's barely recognizable from the norm. We care less about the laws of man. We care even less about your morals. We practice the suppression of emotions, but we are equally susceptible to such impulses. We know despair, bitterness is a constant, and hatred is like a neighbor. He offers no hope to anyone, even to a child or a dying man, because it is equal to the crime of lying. He despises humans, and yet they are the only ones he truly understands."**

He looked up to the skies, crossing his arms and continuing as if all these things were hardly any worth mentioning later.

**And yet, he made our Society become equal with the humans. Our time of being regarded as the same Hellspawn we've been killing is over, all thanks to **_**him**_**. We are no longer feared, ostracized or rejected. All because he saved a village, gave aid to an oppressed City and sent every Devil that has afflicted our land for so long back to Oblivion. He saved the ones who **_**hate**_** him, just like this time. After all that your little sister has done to him, he could have just left her in the forest to die as a form of revenge. Hmph, he could have done that yesterday, in fact. Yet, he came back for her **_**and **_**took her curse for himself."**

He turned to look over his shoulder. There was no harsh glow of his eyes nor any ominous floating of his locks, just simply looking at who was behind him that asked a certain question.

**"Emurdol Viandegroc is a Hero that vanquished the Supreme Sins. That's the only reason why he's done such a thing. He didn't ask to be a Hero nor did he strive to be one, he simply **_**is.**_**" **He turned his gaze ahead and began walking onwards to the dark of the forest, **"Not that he would admit being one, however."** He placed his wand to his right hand and clapped another strange rhythm, **"Farewell, Ram. Our time had been short but it was worth it."**

His form blurred alongside the Reaper. The oddity forced Ram to blink, and when she did, they were all gone. Moments later, a second abominable roar erupted from the distance, louder than before, followed by a unified chorus of every surviving witchbeast howling and a terrifying cackle that reveled for the incoming violence. The ground shook, clouds of dust sent to the air as if a violent brawl was happening were quite visible from afar despite the night, the panicking squawks of all wildlife filled the air without stop, and every bird possible that lived in this forest fled from the Horror happening out of sight. The wind was blowing wildly, and the moon was disappearing in the clouds. The very _Forest _was quaking in fear.

She started running before the _terror _engulfed her too.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

She passed through the tree line that separated the witchbeast habitat and the village, bringing her past the barrier and into the safety of its borders. The villagers rejoiced for her safe return as well as her sister but she had no time to acknowledge them nor return the courtesies.

She quickly reached the same cottage used by the Pale One during his recuperation, and she happened to find the door open. When she entered in, she was welcomed with quite the sight:

Lady Emilia was ensnared to a chair by some kind of spinal column that seemed to be alive, wearing a particularly vexed expression for her captive state.

And….

"Lord Roswaal!"

"_Oooh_? Well, this is _suuuuden_."

The Lord of the Domain himself was there, having returned from Sanctuary and was quite surprised for her bloodied and beaten state as well as her cargo being a lot worse for wear.

She hurriedly bowed her head, careful not to drop Rem, "Forgive me and Rem for appearing before you in such a horrid state, and Ram have no excuses for the circumstances that ran rampant yesterday…"

"Say no more." Lord Roswaal's hand was raised up, "Instead, you both have done _woooonderfully_ in my absence."

"Emurdol. Where's Emurdol?" Then Lady Emilia asked the most dangerous question, "Where is he? Why isn't he with you?"

"Yes. Where is our resident Necromancer?" Lord Roswaal asked, lacking his usual drawl and speaking in rather sincere tones, "I must certainly express my most sincere gratitude to him for all he's done."

Her throat locked up, unsure how to put this delicately. There were in fact many complications before coming here, and the Pale One being overtaken by a different identity was chief among them. Her answer would certainly not be received positively, especially from Lady Emilia.

"Ram?" Lord Roswaal was starting to note her silence.

Steeling herself, she will not mince any words just as she always had but she will try her best not to be cruel.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The Flesh Golem had become a true monstrosity, and its size was nearly phenomenal. What was once a hulking abomination of flesh and blood had now turned into the emaciated half of a pale giant. Its size was comparable from an Ulgarm to its Alpha.

Its once-canine skull had morphed into something completely human, and it wore the hide of eaten witchbeasts to form its pale countenance. Sharp pointy ears, white eyes without pupils, a deformed head free of hair, extremely pointy teeth, a long red tongue and a very loose jaw, threatening to come off but still capable of snapping a tree in half with one bite. Unnaturally long arms, spindly and lanky beyond description, ended in 5 claws that carry only single joints. A bony torso, exposing ribs and ending with its guts spilling out of its missing lower half. They should have been intestines long ago but they morphed into simply thick strings of flesh trailing behind it. And they _moved_. All its 6 other mouths have congregated to the palms, the backhands, and the forearms. Whatever they reached or touched gets bitten and devoured, contributing to its mass even further.

"Ha!"

And it scoffed, ridiculing the existence standing in front of its creator.

Viandegroc stood in front of an Alpha Ulgarm, smiling at it condescendingly alongside the Flesh Golem, barely even considering it a threat to his host's life.

After the massacre earlier, most of the curses eating Emurdol's mana has been lessened to only 2 due to the deaths of the ones responsible for them. His mana had outrageous potency, the type that overmatched even Senior Magi in his home world. It apparently did more than feed, it empowered them. And that made a simple witchbeast who he could torture, mutilate, or experiment on without trouble into something even more troublesome that's going to give a bit of resistance before he gets what he wants.

"You're as ugly as the last. A little taller but barely making the difference." He mentioned, eyeing every detail on the beast with a sarcastically critical gaze, especially the mana signature it had. It was all _laughable _to him and very likely the owner of the vessel if he's the one in control.

As if sensing his impudent thoughts, the giant dog started roaring and raised its paw, ready to smash him down—

**"AH, SHUT UP!"****  
**"Ah, ShUt Up!"

Eldritch voice and abominable voice shouted at once, effectively cutting the feral howl short. Even the lesser witchbeasts surrounding him, the abomination and the Alpha in a wide circle _flinched _from his superior outburst. There was pure fury and frustration boiling from Viandegroc's every expression. His pale skin that could match even a corpse in the coffin was now burning red, and his green eyes burned brighter than the fiery orbs of the giant Ulgarm.

"YoU sHoW uP iN bRoThEr'S FaCe, _ThInKiNg _YoU cOuLd InTiMiDaTe HiM oR eVeN mE!? dO yOu _AcTuAlLy_ ThInK yOu ArE nOw SuPeRiOr CoMpArEd To Me Or _HiM _jUsT bEcAuSe YoU sToLe HiS mAnA!?"  
**"YOU SHOW UP IN BROTHER'S FACE, **_**THINKING**_** YOU COULD INTIMIDATE HIM OR EVEN ME!? DO YOU **_**ACTUALLY**_** THINK YOU ARE NOW SUPERIOR COMPARED TO ME OR **_**HIM**_** JUST BECAUSE YOU STOLE HIS MANA!?"**

If a witchbeast is capable of emotion, then the indignance began to show on the Alpha's face, screaming a deep below of bloody murder as it redoubled its efforts and swung its trunk-like arm towards him once again.

The moment its calloused paw met the outstretched poisonous knife made entirely out of Viandegroc's skull and spinal column, the weapon sunk merely 4 millimeters inwards to the flesh…

**"HA!"**  
"HA!"

…and the Alpha flinched backwards, as if kicked by a giant's foot, screaming a grating resonance of true agony as it slammed its stabbed paw against the ground repeatedly, causing a minor earthquake. It knocked over several trees in its struggle, flattened a few of its lessers underpaw, and he had to jump away before its tail swiped him out of the picture, leaving 3 hellhounds to take the brunt of the blow.

**"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"**  
"HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHA!"

The sound of suffering mixed together with sadistic delight, resonating from dual sources. The Flesh Golem had already began rampaging, rendering any living thing at the receiving end of its large spindly arms into either a mangled mess of flesh and blood or bitten chunks of meat via the maws at the palms. It had knocked over several trees itself, creating an even wider clearing littered with felled plant life. Its erratic movements defied its size for its absurd speed, sending a strong gust of wind in every lash.

At a certain distance, a black and white blur was streaking through the thickets and shrubs, barely a sound except for the bodies hitting the ground. A quick flash of shining and black steel comes before a canine body is rendered to pieces, left as fertilizer on the forest floors. Mother struck down any arriving witchbeast, uncaring whether they slipped past her barrier or not since they will suffer the wrath of the abomination afterwards. It's very likely the hellhounds did not even know she _existed_. She was moving too quickly to be seen, heard or smelled, an empowerment since being free of her son's body. She's utilizing it to the fullest extent as the Reaper.

"**YOU'RE **_**NOTHING**_** BEFORE HIM **_**OR **_**ME! YOU'RE **_**NOTHING**_** TO THE EYES OF EVERY PRIEST OF THE SERPENT THAT LIVED AND DIED! DON'T GET TOO FULL OF YOURSELF, YOU PILE OF USELESS HIDE! DON'T EVER THINK YOU'RE EVEN **_**CLOSE**_** TO BEING SPECIAL AMONG YOUR SPECIES! YOU HAVE NO DAMN RIGHT TO BE ALIVE! YOU EVEN **_**INFURIATE **_**ME JUST BY **_**EXISTING**_**! LOOK AT YOU! YOU'RE WRITHING IN PAIN JUST FROM A LITTLE SCRATCH OF MY SKULL!"****  
**"YoU'rE _nOtHiNg_ BeFoRe HiM _oR_ mE! yOu'Re _NoThInG_ tO tHe EyEs Of EvErY pRiEsT oF tHe SeRpEnT tHaT lIvEd AnD dIeD! dOn'T gEt ToO fUlL oF yOuRsElF, yOu PiLe Of UsElEsS hIdE! dOn'T eVeR tHiNk YoU'rE eVeN _cLoSe_ To BeInG sPeCiAl AmOnG yOuR sPeCiEs! YoU hAvE nO dAmN rIgHt To Be AlIvE! yOu EvEn _InfuRiAtE_ mE jUsT bY eXiStInG! lOoK aT yOu! YoU'rE wRiThInG iN pAiN jUsT fRoM a LiTtLe ScRaTcH oF mY sKuLl!"

Viandegroc did what he did best, ridiculing his targets to the point of death. Laughing, jeering, teasing, bullying, taunting, and provoking. His choice of words are specifically sharp and cutting, borderline arrogant. But in his mind, he sincerely believed in them to be true beyond debate. And he'd be damned if anyone questions it, because a Priest of the Serpent's lecture is barely _ever _wrong.

The Alpha's frame was starting to turn black from the innumerable black veins developing on its entire body starting from the wound on its paw. Its grating howls had been brought down to chokes and pitiful yelps, reducing its status as the mightiest of its pack to a pathetic whelp. It no longer had the strength to stand or maintain its balance. The pain overpowered its mental faculties, its muscles locked up completely, rendering it immobile and left to his mercy. The only movement available were the twitches and the roll of its eyes, looking back at his reveling gaze with bloodshot orbs of pure red.

It had been a common belief that some converts to the Order of the Serpent were once Apothecaries, knowing of the ways of medicine and herbal cures. Upon their enlightenment, their expertise shifts to poisons, anatomy, and numerous forms of surgery. Altruistic ambitions became a desire for knowledge, to know more of what makes all biological life operate. The data they gathered is either shared or kept to themselves until their deaths, at which point is contributed to the Order.

Emurdol's first interest had drawn more to the knowledge of noxious substances before the knowledge of life, devoting his time into learning all the toxins the World Above ever developed through the process of evolution. There had been dangerous chemicals the Order have kept, a mixture of numerous ingredients that were from Above Ground but he strove for more, aiming to acquire all poisons once he earned his right to leave the Underground City.

His efforts showed through the enumerable lives he took from the bone knife held in Viandegroc's hand, containing a cocktail of every horrible toxin he ever found throughout his journey around the Above-World. If something as big as this Alpha keels over _so _easily because of a tiny puncture, it does not deserve the right to be spouting threats, baring its teeth or swinging its weapons. This wasn't even the first incident, and to see the event repeating itself, even if pale in comparison, was enough to make him lose his temper.

"**DIE! DIE! DIE! JUST FUCKING DIE! YOU WASTE OF SPACE, TIME, EXISTENCE, FLESH, BONE, BLOOD, MANA AND AIR! YOU MAKE ME FUCKING SICK! JUST LOSE ALL THE OXYGEN IN YOUR LUNGS AND DIE!"****  
**"DiE! dIe! DiE! jUsT fUcKiNg DiE! yOu WaStE oF sPaCe, TiMe, ExIsTeNcE, fLeSh, BoNe, BlOoD, mAnA aNd AiR! yOu MaKe Me FuCkInG sIcK! jUsT lOsE aLl ThE oXyGeN iN yOuR lUnGs AnD dIe!"

He siphoned the Alpha's wilting mana to his core the whole time, never letting such a valuable resource to Necromagi be wasted away alongside the life force. So much magical energy, yet completely unused, never given a chance to exert power except swing its arms. Pathetic mutt. What's left of the container's contents is down to the brim and eventually, he reached the Od. He drained that too, eating the source of life and transferring it to the wand.

And after a whole minute, the Alpha is now dead, its suffering dragged out for so long that Viandegroc made sure that it lived long enough to realize its own doom or the _pointlessness_ of its existence. Whether the hellhound realized that or not won't matter, it's dead anyway. This world is simply free from another useless life form.

"Haaaaaaaaa." At that, Viandegroc released a pleasant sigh, his body losing all of its stiffness as he raised his hands up to the sky, praising the Dragon for allowing that satisfying moment to happen.

_[That was so fucking cathartic. I never knew venting out your anger and frustrations like that could do that to you. That explains why you loved torturing the Greater Spawns and the Corrupted, didn't you, Brother?]_

_[….]_

_[Such annoying little shits, aren't they? Facing us despite their poor odds. These things are absolutely not like animals. They would have known who's the better predator and walked away, not risking any injury on a useless fight. It almost reminds you of _humans_, doesn't it?]_

_[…...]_

_[Makes you wonder how different would those beings called 'Demi-humans' be, yes? The People have been telling us that they are as civilized as the next human but with differing factors aside from their appearances. I personally wished their employee, Frederica, had been around so we could find out ourselves.]_

_[….]_

_[Brother? Are you there? Make a sound if you are, any sound, even if small…]_

_[…]_

A small frown crossed his features when he heard no such thing. Emurdol just might be getting away from reality in this convenient fashion. Take away the responsibilities of the flesh, the burden of food, rest, work and _emotion_ put aside for someone else to take over, any Priest of the Serpent would take the chance. It is almost as similar as _dying_.

_[You might need your rest, after all, Brother.] _He brushed his thumb over the skull top of the wand gently, a flat line forming on his lips. _[Go ahead. Sleep. Don't worry about the others. They have outgrown their old ways. After watching all that has happened to you, they would not have the heart to disturb you after suffering so much.]_

He looked over the corpse of the Alpha lying on its side, the eyes, devoid of its red malicious light, left wide open with the tongue lolling out of its toothy maw. Put aside the numerous black veins, it's actually an intact specimen of its type. Feeling the presence of the Flesh Golem behind him reaching forward to the dead dog and about to have another component for its mass, he held up a hand to halt. The reaching claws hovered over his head as it stopped.

The flesh is _too _intact. The organs have likely ruptured beyond repair but the frame is just **perfect**. How could he let it be ravaged? In Viandegroc's choice of essential resources, flesh is the hallmark of a Necromagi's power, especially if it's unspoiled. Second to bones, that is.

But still, this is too good an opportunity to pass up.

A challenging grin on his lips, he stepped up to the corpse and laid his hand on the snout. He may not have achieved such a thing before in his living life but he's watched the method used by Emurdol more than a hundred times. Emulation will not be troublesome.

Purge poison. Halt coagulation. Apply Curse of Nightmares. Flush tainted mana. Process into dark energy. Mix with Life force. Cage Soul.

**Reanimate**_._

_[This is cheating. Every Priest will be cross with me if they ever find out about this.]_

_No one_ learns nor teaches how to perform the dark arts in the Order of the Serpent, after all. The goal for every Gecko is _discovery_.

How he's acquired this knowledge is just a mixture of both. He hoped the Dragon forgives him for this. In his living life, his only discovery is the creation of spinal columns that could go on forever. He hasn't even discovered how to raise a _skeleton_ of all things, the most basic of basic techniques. Emurdol killed him before he could find his second one.

Twitching.

Twitching.

Twitching.

Twitching.

And then Unlife.

The Alpha silently rose up to its legs and looked down on him, eyes blazing red once more. If there was once hostility, now there's only mindless subservience. To realize its nonliving state would be to feel its dead heart or see its swollen tongue. Aside from that, it's basically no different from a living one.

Unsurprisingly, Viandegroc felt no gratification upon achieving one of the advanced magics of the Order on the first attempt. He took advantage of Emurdol's experience and used no unique method of his own. A _disgraceful_ conduct for a Priest, even if he's no longer a living being in essence.

He sneered at such a thing.

_[Alas, I rediscovered the emotion of shame once more.]_

With a gesture, the Alpha turned and trotted off into a direction and he followed it, with the abomination and the Mother trailing after him. Using its keen sense of smell, it will track down every witchbeast in this forest for him, making this Purge quick and easy. It will join the fight as well, applying its magic for the task at hand. Since it's bound to fall apart sooner or later, this must be quick.

Indulging in the Living World suddenly feels like a bother to him now. He should focus on the job.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

One stomp to the throat and the neck bones snapped under his skeletal feet. Yet another witchbeast dead. With a wave of his hand, its skeleton exploded out of its corpse, carrying a mace as it walked off in a random direction, searching for witchbeasts to kill.

Turning a bored eye to another direction, the slaughter between ivory and hide is still ongoing. Skeletons of all shapes, from giants to prowlers, strength to ferocity, struck down everything that moved aside from him, Mother, the Golem and the Undead Alpha.

Witchbeast, beheaded by a bone sword.

Witchbeast, head bitten off by a prowler.

Skeletal warrior, ripped in half.

Skeletal magus, trampled.

Witchbeast, stabbed through the heart.

Prowler, mobbed.

Witchbeast, head bashed by a bone mace.

Skeletal warrior, mobbed.

Skeletal magus, ripped in half.

Prowler, mobbed.

Prowler, headbutted.

Skeletal magus, lost a head.

Witchbeast, bisected.

Bruiser, bent in half.

Witchbeast, stabbed to death.

Skeletal warrior, lost its legs.

_[Damn it.]_

His creations are falling more often than the mutts. He may be copying the creation method but minion fortitude is a different story, apparently. Emurdol's skeletal constructs could not match the Queen of Ivory's Apocalypse Legion but even one of his soldiers could take 6 to 10 witchbeasts before falling.

Clearing out the forest in this kind of fashion did not seem so ideal anymore.

_[I truly need to Go Home, don't I?]_

A clawed hand reached up to the sky before it slapped the earth in unbelievable speeds, causing a large quake and terraforming the land. Alongside it, clouds of dust and multiple bleeding bodies were thrown into the air. The Flesh Golem leaped up, sharp jaws wide open and caught as many hellhounds as it can in its maw before landing back to the ground, causing another quake and crushing multitudes of witchbeasts underneath.

At least _that _construct was a successful fighting life form, capable of development and cognition. His only worry is the amount of size it'll gain in the aftermath. It needs to die if it becomes too visible. Mother should still be somewhere, killing the damn things like bugs under her metal boots as always.

As for the Undead Alpha….

Trees toppled from their movements, land continuously terraforming due to their reckless use of destructive spells, and so much blood is spilt from their violent grapple of tooth and claw. The second Alpha had appeared, and its undead counterpart met it head on in a vengeance. Just like actual dogs, they are fighting for dominance, aiming for the other's neck with their jaws and leveraging their arms and legs to pin them down.

Viandegroc was quick to know the hazards, especially if these dogs are more than 6 times the size of ordinary ones.

_[I should be getting away. As of now, I am an ant in the proximity of two hounds tussling. I might get stepped on.]_

In a blur, he has disappeared from sight and suddenly reappeared in the midst of canine corpses among the scattered bones, raising more fodder for the slaughter.

Escaping the grapple, the living Alpha pushed its opponent's head off its neck and whirled, slapping the snout with its muscular tail lined with spikes. To the Undead Alpha, it was nothing more than a push and retaliated without a second thought: a head-butt to the shoulder, and another, sending it teetering on two legs, and then a final one that sent it crashing on its side.

An undefended prey in its sight, it struck—

The earth underneath it exploded, sending its 3 ton upper body upwards to stand on two legs and the new opening on its underbelly allowed visceral contents to spill out. The lesser witchbeasts saw their opening. Hundreds managing to slip past Mother's vigilance, lying in wait since the confrontation, finally bolted into action and pushed the Undead Alpha down before clamping onto the exposed guts.

They pulled. Hard.

The entrails and blood spilled out like a large leak in a container. It was like an open faucet in a bath, a large one, and it doused the ravaging witchbeasts in pure crimson liquid, leaving no trace of brown or black on their beings. As if being energized by such a grotesque wash, their movements grew even more violent, shredding and extracting even more organs.

But the Undead Alpha barely noticed. What it only thought about was the next course of action, and to see so many of its enemies together in one spot, especially when its living counterpart simply stood there watching its opponent 'suffer', it was a good chance to pass up.

A wave of earth arrived for the umpteenth time. The lessers alongside their greater noticed the shift of mana before it occurred. This time, however, it came from all directions. Front, back, left and right, a powerful torrent that could uproot trees and reshape the very land without any sort of trouble was coming down on them. The witchbeasts couldn't think of the right move to escape and the spell didn't allow them the time for that. Rock and soil swept them away without mercy, either crushed or simply buried under to die of suffocation. The two Alphas suffered the worst of it. If they cannot be buried, they will instead be ravaged like eggs in a raging river. Their enormous bones, stronger than most ground dragons, were bent, shattered, fractured and mangled. New wounds were received as well, and disembowelment is now shared between them. If there was supposed to be blood, the sight only lasted for a second before dirt overshadowed it. Grind, twist, mix, blend. An endless torture.

But only one felt the punishment. The other was already dead and was validated its rest.

And after several dozen seconds, the dust finally settling as the torrent of earth now stopped. What was left of the Alphas were just their bodies half-buried into the now-still soil, broken and severely wounded enough to show their insides.

And Viandegroc felt a rather personal loss as he eyed over their corpses. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. They were such wonderful specimens, and now they're beyond repair. Such a shame. He could have poisoned the other one and had it risen with its bones and motor functions intact, but the first one went wild and pounced on it as if it had a grudge. Only the Flesh Golem would have a use for them now. It would gladly accept any kind of body, spoilt or not, so long as it could eat it and grow further with it.

_Hmm…._

He leaned his head forward, suddenly realizing something interesting as he looked at the exposed fractures.

With a wave of his hand, the bones were expunged out forcefully from their vessels of flesh, floating to the air under his will as they dripped blood and still had remains of organs and entrails hanging off them as they reformed the frame of their former selves, but Viandegroc wasn't paying attention to the minor details. He compared the states of each frames.

A skull was completely dented, but the other only had cracks. Fixable.

A right femur was bent in half, but the other was perfectly intact.

Left hind leg, shattered. The other, bent. Reattachable.

Both spinal columns are twisted, cracked, detached. _Easy fix_.

Multiple ribs are either snapped or cracked. Replaceable.

Lastly, both pairs of paws with digits ending in giant swords are perfectly intact. **Perfect.**

He smirked. These things are a keeper. With a snap of his fingers, all joints were detached before every piece was sent to the Void. Seeing as they are all in, he closed the rift—

He suddenly collapsed to his knees, barely stopping his face from meeting the reformed soil with his wand hand as his vision blurred, entire body shaking.

_[Bloody hell….how on Pandemonium do you maintain your composure after closing that accursed opening, Brother? That was actually _exhausting_,]_

It felt as if all the fight in his body suddenly left him, taking away all the energy he had left despite his zealous drive for the task still intact. His body was in a constant state of adrenaline, it could remain that way even if the battle was long over, a feat only Priests of the Serpent are capable of, further improved with their bodily modifications. To suddenly end up like this just for knitting reality back together was unfathomable.

He's barely keeping his consciousness together. Sleep felt like a wonderful prospect at the moment, so enchanting to throw oneself into the beautiful or terrifying reality created by no other than yourself. To Priests of the Serpent, it is but a minor reflection of the Afterlife. Something to fervently look forward to in times of respite. But Viandegroc is fully aware that this is _not _a time for respite. He's on a job, and exhaustion that leads to sleep is a critical hazard. His arms shook just to keep his body from resting against the ground. He even felt brittle like an amateur's conjured bone.

_[Damn it. I don't think I could continue like this. This forest is still infested…still more witchbeasts…]_

A gust of wind and a pair of metallic hands raised his body up to sit on his rear. His heavy eyes saw air but his second vision saw the concerned face of Emurdol's Mother. Concerned for his sudden fall. Looking over her frame, she's bloodier than before. She clearly felled more witchbeasts than the Golem and him combined.

_[Mama…I may have done something I shouldn't have in the midst of battle.]_

Just from that, she already know what he had done to be in such a state. There was nothing but annoyance she has for him.

_[Truly, you can forgive this one slight. I haven't seen this aftereffect coming. I thought it was a light strain on the psyche but it seems I miscalculated in terms of willpower.]_

The Queen of Ivory would have huffed in pride if she were alive in this very moment. She prized her son and to hear an indirect compliment about him is nothing short of pleasing. There was only affirmation to hear from her.

_[I know. He is amazing and I am inferior. But we have bigger concerns. This body is in critical danger. If I can't fight, this task cannot be done.]_

She informs that she is aware. Even with her, even with a Flesh Golem, even if a Legion is out there, they are _not _safe as long as the creator cannot move on their own. And a good Priest of the Serpent leaves _nothing_ to chance in a situation like this.

_[You would think this is the right opportunity to Pass On, yes? Redo the events and settle what we were careless to? Maybe leave the Mansion ahead of time while we hold the master of these beasts prisoner?]_

Disapproval. Immediate disapproval, and Mother was having no debate on that, especially after the first incident. She is not allowing it…

_[…unless he allows it too, yes?] _He finished her thoughts, an ironic smile crossing his features. He didn't like the certain implications of the matter, _[But this would _break _him. As of now, his desire for the Afterlife runs even deeper. He's even _expecting _me to end his life for him. This will end in more than disappointed for him if he finds out. You and I are aware he mustn't know of it. It took much just to make sure he hasn't noticed the first time!]_

He looked around him, just to see where his Golem is. It was nowhere in sight despite the wider spread of view thanks to many felled trees. He just noticed that it got quiet, an ill omen. The winds are still, but he couldn't sense any witchbeast in hiding. These details are too confusing, but the fact that he's in hostile territory is still a concern. And _dying _is still a matter of debate.

_[Brother! Brother! Come out! Speak with Mama! Do you intend to die soon and leave our task unfinished!? Or shall we retreat!?]_

They could feel it. Something was coming. _Fast_. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was clearly not using the ground to traverse. It was _flying_ at great speeds. And a _horde _was coming from the opposite direction. Mother senses it. He senses it. The ground shook from the many paws sprinting onto the location of a _weakened _prey. _Him._

Teeth gritting as the panic overrode his exhaustion, his mouth motioned the words as he desperately tried to reach out to the owner of the vessel. _[Brother! ANSWER!] _Gripping the wand close to his face, he leaned the skull top to his forehead, deciding to confront Emurdol himself for his lack of response.

Mother left him and stood up in a whirl, her weapons at the ready, sickles and krises to bear as she is conflicted on which threat to confront. If only Viandegroc wasn't hindering her with his current state, she would have been unstoppable and would have the danger under control. Her concern for her son is putting the both of them in danger.

Viandegroc's eyes shot open, shocked at the revelation he witnessed. _[By the Dragon….] _He turned to Mother, just in time to witness a witchbeast that was first to arrive among its pack being beheaded by a sickle. _[Mama….I fail to see if this is bad news or good news but…] _He hesitated. This was something she wasn't meant to hear, but he knows that withholding it merits nothing. He hates it. He hates it all. Damn everything that led to this point! _[….he's having an audience with our _Kind_ Benefactor.]_

And then Mother was very still.

….Very still, even more than when she's idle. Seeing her like this was possibly the very first _terrifying _thing he ever saw in his first return to life.

There was a certain loss. A defeat in her still demeanor, as if the fire of her will to fight and live has diminished.

_Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang._

….she dropped her weapons, conceding to the inevitable if she doesn't defend herself, as if to fully illustrate what he feared was happening to her…

Her hopelessness is his hopelessness. Her defeat is his defeat. Her sorrow is his sorrow. What she could not express as a being without flesh, he did so in her stead, weeping and losing all the light in his eyes. Together, they only had one solution. One they equally did their best in avoiding and unfortunately had to go through with.

_[We must die, shouldn't we?]_

She gave him no answer, and that made it all worse for him.

_[But…. Satella has him…..what if it doesn't bring his Soul back? What if it's just…..me….? What if he's gone forever….?]_

There was still no reply.

What should be the most anticipated moment for a Priest of the Serpent had suddenly become the point of despair, a point that they must _avoid _at all cost. It was unthinkable. They were an enlightened people, seeing more, knowing more, and have always considered Death to be the most essential part of life that made the world truly beautiful. It was never something to be feared. Now, they see it the same way everything else does, their beliefs brought down to ground level…

_Just like humans._

Mother enclosed him into her 4 metal arms, embracing him, tight enough to hurt and bruise. It felt as if she was clinging on to something from him. It wasn't sure what. And Viandegroc was lost as to why. As a Restless Soul, she does not see the flesh, she only sees what is within. And that means she does not see her son in him, even if this was the very flesh she gave birth to. Yet why was she holding on to him desperately, as if she was afraid of losing him? Was it for her last moment's comfort? Was it for the sake of company? Was it to hold on to her very last precious possession? Or was it to reach out to the beloved son that's _not _inside the vessel of flesh, hoping to bring him back?

He held her, whether to comfort her or himself he's not even sure. This feeling of despair was unfathomable. He didn't want it. He never felt it in his first life, but Emurdol had felt this destruction almost constantly before. How was he able to force himself through this pain and be driven to live another day? Viandegroc had boasted about having the same line of thought as him, but he falls short of raw experience and sheer strength of spirit. If the owner was here, he would inevitably spring back to his feet and power through this adversity.

But where was that man? Where was the man who survived the most impossible odds and pulled the Order of the Serpent from the pit?

It brought him the realization that he and Mother are nothing short of _useless _if their dear Brother and Son is not with them.

He shut his eyes, gritting his teeth as the tears ran down his cheeks, hiding them as he buried his face to Mother's bony shoulder. The horde is nearing. The flying entity was even nearer. The trembling ground was intensifying from the nearing proximity of their death. No means of defending themselves. The Flesh Golem was gone. It's coming closer. Closer.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

**"_Ul Goa_!"**

Then came Hell Fire.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"_Myyyyyy_, you look _veeeeeery_ terrible! Did something happen?"

The horde was incinerated in a flash of red, orange and with so much heat it could have burned him as well despite his distance from the sudden conflagration. The dark night was swept away in the fire's bright light, illuminating the darker parts of the untamed forest, the corpses around him and the flying entity who he thought was his executioner standing before him as if greeting each other in a party.

Was he supposed to be relieved or exasperated?

"In fact, you both look terrible. A _liiiiiteral_ bloodbath you two had in this rather grueling task you set yourselves _ooooon_."

_[Roswaal L. Mathers….]_

He was numb, indifferent and lost all at once as to how he should react to this turn of events. Should he be glad that he was saved? Or be infuriated for the chance to take back what was _possibly _lost be snuffed away?

Mother stood stiffly in-between him and the clown, facing him with an invisible wariness.

"Oh?" Roswaal could not be blind to the hateful gaze he carried, and he surely noticed Mother's hostility as well. "It _seeeeeeems_ my little servant's actions have darkened your _impreeeeession_ of me."

_[Bullshit. Many Souls already held a grudge against you, and the worst among them are your descendants. How could I_ not_ have a bad impression of you already?]_

"It has been careless of me to not notice how dire the circumstances were between you and her….and now it led you to this, forced to suffer an ordeal that apparently you cannot do at your state. Rem's mistake is my mistake. Therefore, the fault is all mine."

Viandegroc did not trust this clown, never had since Emurdol first met him, but he heard _genuine _remorse and regret for his situation in those words. His strange drawl wasn't there either. It stiffened him, made him suspicious. It _confused _him. He gritted his teeth at the sight. It was actually frustrating to see inconsistency happening before his eyes.

Roswaal had the most sympathetic look in his mismatched eyes as he stared back at him.

"Please, return to the mansion and recuperate properly there. Allow me to finish the task before you. Your actions have been a great deed for the village and the whole of the Mathers domain. You have done so much, and suffered so much. You will be rewarded and properly compensated in the best of my wealth and abilities. You have my word."

_[….._….._]_

….Priests of the Serpent…..

_[…..Mama…]_

….are _not_ idiots.

That has been an unspoken truth among his kind. They firmly established this for only the Dragon knows when and diligently practiced every action that makes them worthy of the claim. And _now_ is one of those moments that tests that trait again.

_[...We must accept. We cannot do this anymore. I'm weakened, and you have given up. We're _useless._]_

It was infuriating to admit such a thing, and it was an equally condemning thing to hear for Mother herself. Priests of the Serpent are not like Above-Worlders where Death makes them useless, but to have ended up in such a state of incapability while he is still alive, with his arms and legs still intact, with enough mana still boiling in his core, is nothing more than an insult.

But then again, Priests of the Serpent are _not_ idiots. The safest option is the first priority, not pride.

_[In my recuperation, I will seek out Brother myself. I will employ the others as well. Whichever one he meets, I promise to wrench him back into this body. For his sake. For _your _sake_._]_

She suddenly whirled on him, unbelieving of his proposal, especially when such thing was improbable in her mind.

His mouth moved in a scream, suddenly angered.

_[We have no choice!]_

He had to be firm with her. A being with no sense of rational thought is prone to making the stupidest decisions, like a _human_.

_[We have no way of knowing if _dying _will bring him back! We cannot risk losing him forever to that _**cur**_! You and I fucking know that your ultimate desire is to Go Home with him!]_

If she had a skull, she would be grinding her teeth for the fact that he cannot be rebutted. She's incapable of such a thing. She's not alive. No one in the living world would be capable of appeasing volatile Souls like her as he had unless they _see _her.

She quickly knelt before him, holding his skeleton hand as she noticed that he's expending every bit of his individual willpower just to speak with her. His consciousness was slipping away. He must convince her, and quickly.

_[He's my family too. That's why I'm going to do this. If it costs me my entire sense of self, then so be it.]_

He squeezed her metal grip, expressing his resolve in this task he set on himself.

_[I _will_ bring him back to you. I swear to Vra'Ugthol, and on my _soul_.]_

Her frame was still. Very still. A silence over the both of them, leaving the crackling of the flames to be the only sound, with Roswaal watching the proceedings silently.

And then, bones clicked.

From literally nothing, calcified bones and hardened ivory began to take shape. Neck bones. Vertebrae. Jaw. Teeth and fangs. And finally, the entire skull. The void in her sockets glowed a ghostly blue, taking stock of the wearer's presence.

She nodded; the Queen of Ivory grants her affirmation.

And with that, Viandegroc let go of his consciousness but the Bone Magus held him from meeting the soil. Instead, she disrobed him of the light-eating robes, leaving his gaunt and pale torso to bear, leaving only his undergarments and his artificial legs with him.

No mana core, no biological source of energy to supply her power, she must resort to the nearest possible alternatives. The enchantments on the robes are all she had that's close by.

Donning it in her person, leaving it unclasped so the front arms are free to move in the opening at the chest while her back arms wore the sleeves, she stood up and processed the mana contained in the garb.

Using collected mana to taint the ambient energies, then absorbing that to process it into proper energy that only Priests of the Serpent could use, she created 4 skeletons from the soil and a makeshift stretcher right underneath Viandegroc before she gently set him down on it, the wand placed in his right hand.

With a clench of her two front arms' fists, she beckoned a pair of warriors from the Apocalypse Legion and set them to the living realm. Just 2 unarmed skeletons assigned to the role of bodyguards to safeguard the patient on its passage back to the mansion, but in those spindly bones belied the same dangerous power that annihilated an entire region of its Elite Hellspawns.

This wasn't leaving things to chance. This is the appropriate amount of power needed to shield the life of one person. Nothing more, nothing less. As a Necromagus of her caliber, whether dead or alive, this is permitted exclusively to her.

With a point of her two right index fingers, her command is clear. _Send him back._

The 6 skeletons snapped their jaws in affirmative, the stretcher lifted up as if it weighed no more than a thin piece of wood and they marched to the location indicated by their mistress.

In a single eye-blink, Roswaal's collar was suddenly in her grasp, the fabric threatening to tear apart from her killer grip while the 3 other arms were ready to rip out his vital organs. Dark pits containing blue pinpoints glared directly into the clown's own soul, a feat only the Dead are capable of with a few true exceptions among the living.

Archmage of the Kingdom Lugunica. Supreme Queen of Ivory from the Order of the Serpent. Two powerful magi, eye to eye with their matching height and the amount of power they carry with their person. One burned with anger, blue energies permeating off her form like a thundercloud. One was simply calm, his form straight and unmoving as he stared back at the furious skeleton.

And the jaws of that furious skeleton opened.

**"My son be relieved of grief. To leave I shall, but only brief. That will not be, until brought back to Mother. If he does not come to be, lives will be forfeit. The land be rid of all breath. Mother's reprisal to this accursed world."**

Any attempt of comprehending how could such a sound that should not exist in this side of life be understood despite the _chaos_ it carried would even render his centuries' year old mind to ruin. So he did not dare to. Instead, he nodded. The threat in her strange rhyme clear in his understanding.

In his most professional tone, he replied to her demands, "It shall be done, Mother of Emurdol."

Confirming his full cooperation, the Bone Magus' aura of pale blue dissipated before she released him and nearly made Roswaal lose his balance as she walked into his form, as if he was a mere shrub in the way, bumping his shoulder in her stride towards her dropped weapons on the soil.

She took the krises first, the front arms flicking the blood and dirt off them before sheathing them somewhere on her back beneath the light-eating robes that made her part-shadow in the glow of the still-burning flames. Second, the arms wearing the sleeves picked up the sickles, dark as night, practically a part of her shadowed being.

Another eye-blink, she suddenly disappeared from existence.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Emurdol's body was finally brought to the village, at first greeted by apprehension from the people pf Earlham for the sight of skeletal beings before the concern for the children's savior overpowered it the sooner they saw his bare and bloodied form. The first to reach him was Ram, quick to carry the unconscious Priest in her arms as soon as his skeletal attendants set the stretcher down before crumbling to dust and brought him to a separate cottage now that the first one was occupied by Rem.

The first to come inside were Beatrice and Puck, followed by Emilia, free as the living fetter once holding her prisoner suddenly crumbled to dust the sooner it sensed its creator's unconscious state. They were surprised for the _little _amount of wounds in his person despite how drenched he was in blood. Merely scratches, not from claws but from tree branches, not a single curse or a bite from a witchbeast on his person. His mana, however, was abysmally low.

Knowing that he needed mana to live, the 2 Spirits replenished him just that by lending it from their cores to his own. Emilia had wanted to do the same but was eventually convinced not to, lest she losses consciousness again for exhausting her own supply just like she did when she healed him last night. Emurdol's Od being practically as wide as a lake, their collective energies were handed over sparingly to fill half his core for now. They were confident that it was all he needed.

The sooner he was cleaned up, his artificial legs removed, and now dressed in clean robes provided by the villagers, Emilia thought the worst had come. The Priest of the Serpent was pale enough to look like a corpse, even in a healthier state but his chest was barely rising to indicate breathing. His body temperature was freezing cold. Not even a heartbeat was heard. She thought her only friend had _died_.

The two Spirits had dissuaded her fears after confirming that despite all appearances, the body is still _alive_. They felt the fires of life still present in Emurdol, and it stubbornly refused to flicker out. Beatrice ran a diagnosis and discovered the abominable makeup of his physiology, eyes widened in shock at his bodily design. His heart pulsed once every 1 to 4 minutes and he was breathing, but slowly. _Very _slowly. How this human managed to avoid severe brain damage and other complications or even stayed _alive _in the first place was beyond her.

Emilia held on to the hope that despite these _unnatural _factors, her friend is nothing short of alive and well.

Come the next morning, when Roswaal came back from the Purging of the Ulgarm forest and entered the same cottage the Priest was put in, he became a witness to a very peculiar sight:

Rem, still in her tattered and bloodied uniform, was draped over Emurdol's form, almost protectively and mournfully, her eyes wet with fresh tears.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The dawn was coming, the first rays of warm sunlight landing on the steel of her grieves and bone-inlaid boots as well as the sickles, but she barely acknowledged it. Her only concern is searching for the right place to perform her work in peace, without the risk of being seen nor being disturbed no matter what she does.

She stopped hewing out the plant life in her way so she doesn't end up leaving a trail of her presence, using her weapons only for the slaying of any threat or witnesses. Her pace was unhurried, but her form implied every lick of animosity and hostility that a frame could ever manage. A premonition of what was to come for her prisoner.

"….uh…..ek….."

The small body she dragged by the left ankle moaned, somewhere between pain and complaint as half the front of the body scrapped against the soil. She barely gave that pathetic sound any attention, intending only to search, not to check any living being's welfare. Without eyes, she doesn't need to turn her head to look. She is but a Soul. Everything around her is within her awareness, even the unseen and hidden, and that includes the disease afflicting her captive as well as the progressing symptoms. The darkening veins, the weakness, the burning temperature and the agony that could not be expressed in full form, all originating from one place.

From the bite on her pale forearm, the same place her son bit on.


	11. The Court

The Little Boy continually kept looking up into the sky, somehow surprised with himself that he managed to last this long in the same position, in the same place, looking at the same sight. Like a statue. Though he hates looking at blue skies, he strangely felt at peace doing so. He wondered what was so fun about it before, but he could see the odd intrigue of simply watching clouds drift by, assuming shapes in every second. It was a sunny day, yet the bright ball of fire in the sky didn't seem to give him any kind of discomfort like it usually did. It's warm instead of blistering, comforting instead of detestable.

Then he felt someone come close, indicated by the sound of bare feet stepping across the grassy fields he sat on coming closer to him. Though wishing to know the person, he stayed still, not inclined to start the social conventions.

When he was certain that the person is right behind him, he leaned his head back to look upside-down while keeping himself supported with his hands on the soft grass behind him. He was eye to eye with a pair of dark purple orbs, long locks of white hair and a compassionate mien. Her frame donned by a black dress swayed on the gentle breeze along with her locks. She was a very beautiful girl, he could admit.

The girl knelt down behind him slowly and carefully, the sheer fragility of her appearance as well as her movements captivating him, keeping her eyes fixed on his as she placed both hands on his temples and gave a very gentle kiss to his forehead.

He never left her side afterwards.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Puck, how is he?"

"As always, Lia, one heartbeat every few minutes and the slowest breathing I've ever seen in my life. Nothing's changed."

"What about his mana?"

"Same thing. He's still full since Betty and I gave him some days ago."

"What about curses?"

"Lia….."

"….I'm sorry…it's just….it's been so long…"

"Three days, yeah….humans ought to be dead of thirst at that point but in his case when I checked….it's like he still can go for more, like a day hasn't even passed for him. He sure gave his whole body a real overhaul before coming here."

Despite the impressed tone of the Spirit's words, Emilia wasn't sharing his thoughts. Turning a concerned eye to the pale man lying on the large bed, he perfectly casted the image of death, as if he had died bleeding to death after losing his lower extremities. His body's cold, his chest's barely rising and his heartbeat nonexistent.

The half-elf only had the word of Beatrice and Puck to think otherwise that Emurdol is _still_ alive. Her trust in them was shaky, but she held onto hope. Her friend can't die that easily. If he survived an open stomach, surely he can survive whatever he went through when he entered the witchbeast forest, though he had little to no wounds after coming out of it in a stretcher carried by skeletons.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked.

"Nothing, Lia. Nothing." Puck shook his head, "I don't think _any _of us in this mansion could even do anything for him. If there's even anybody who could help him, it might as well be his Mother. She would know what to do."

"But where is she?"

"From what I've heard from Roswaal: she took his cloak, kept her weapons and just disappeared, telling him that he needs to wake up before she comes back or there will be consequences."

Emilia turned a worried eye to her guardian, "Consequences?"

Puck met her look determinedly, "We _will _wake him up, Lia, and no matter what, I will protect you. But for now…." He turned to face Emurdol's sleeping form again, an afterimage of the ordeal he suffered through frozen on his mien. Exhaustion and pain. "…let's leave him be. Our talking isn't gonna wake him up anytime."

"Okay…" She turned one last look at him before she has to go. He was once bloody and littered with grime, some even absorbed in his silver hair that it became black from drying. It took meticulous effort to return his hair into good condition, and the blood splatters that covered him all over formerly were washed away, leaving his unnaturally _unscarred_ body neat and clean in its pale glory, don once again in sleep robes. His hands were together above his waist, his left hand atop the still-armored right hand that clutched on to the glowing bone wand in a literal death grip. There was no safe way of removing it unless they risked getting mutilated by the Spirits inside for even brushing their finger against it.

It looked so familiar to Emilia. It felt as if everything was repeating itself. He did a great service to her, only to suffer a heavy loss in the process. That hand was locked and dead when he was in a bed like this the first time, and now it's the same thing despite being no longer made out of flesh.

She heard from Ram that he turned into somebody different, that within the vessel of flesh was not her friend but—

"Lia?"

"Eep!" Emilia jolted from the sudden voice next to her ears before she composed herself, giving one more glance to Emurdol, "Sorry…just thinking about…something…."

It was certain that Puck knew what she was talking about, but thankfully, he didn't mention it aloud and instead followed after her to the door.

Closing the portal behind them, they were now face to face with Rem who stood beside the doorway, having stood there since the pair entered early in the morning. The bags on her eyes had been a growing concern alongside the comatose person inside. Everyday, since Emurdol's collapse, she would be there, awaiting for either Puck or Emilia to tell her of his condition. The maid's performance was deteriorating, everyone could see it, her usual professional exterior and perfect conduct as a servant of the Roswaal manor crumbling away to reveal an anxious girl being riddled by her guilt. It had to be the lack of proper sleep as well.

She secretly wished to be the one taking care of Emurdol, but Ram figured her out easily and told her of the risks if she was ever allowed to. The man still carried a grudge against her and if seen upon miraculously waking up, he would not hesitate in ending her life. She was told of the situation where an entity named Viandegroc had overtaken his body, carrying out actions on the behalf of the vessel's owner. Thought a different personality, he was a threat either way, and Ram will not allow it.

Rem's only option was to wait on Puck and Emilia to tell her of how are things. The recent days left her disappointed and worried, and now….

"How is Ser Emurdol?" She asked softly, her brow knitted. Wrinkles were starting to grow from there.

Emilia shook her head, "Still nothing, Rem."

Rem gripped her apron tightly once again, feeling the pit of her stomach fall even further.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Viandegroc stood grouchily in the nothingness, waiting for his expected company to arrive. If there had been a way to describe the realm he is in, deep within the wand that contained a small but still expansive world where ethereal beings congregated, none could hold any form of justice to the _chaos _it represented. Memories, specialties, possessions, premonitions, imaginations, dreams, desires, emotions, thoughts, grudges, regrets, glories—all manifested in cheap forms of emulation, jumbled up together to the point that they lost the hope of being specified from the rest.

It is once called as the Room, but as it began to host even more individuals besides himself, it is now notably called as the Court.

Being the occupant of this place for more than 7 years, everything around him became as relevant or bizarre as a field of grass. Even if the sudden memory of his untimely death were to happen all around him, he would have forgotten that it existed.

Just when he was about to sit on a chair, created from the memory of sitting along other Priests while studying the Ideology of the Serpent, a boisterous voice boomed from all over, "Ah! The Mighty King has returned from his rounds with some news to bear! I would have my slaves prepare for us a feast if I had still worn the crown on my head!"

Turning a dry glance to the speaker, he replied to the Mighty King, "Good luck keeping your slaves from poisoning the food if that were to happen, not that it would bother me."

Rowdy laughter erupted all around him as the Mighty King gripped his massive forearms tightly. Viandegroc pursed his lips. As always, he's the loudest even for a dead man. "Haha! Agh! The boy's poison might have affected me but it did not kill me, didn't it? If even _the boy's_ poisons cannot kill someone as Mighty as me, then my slaves do not deserve my blessings for using such measly substances to end my Life!"

"It does not change the fact that you _turned your back on him _while he was still _alive_, giving him the chance to hit you where you are most vulnerable while you were in a _monologue_." He snapped, just hoping that this realm could work with him and shut this big fool up. He is not interested in looking over the glories happening all around him, chapters of the Mighty King's Life before his defeat in the hands of Emurdol.

"HA! HA!" The Mighty King did not seem to be bothered at the reminder of being killed in the most humiliating way possible for a ruler like him, throwing his head back again before flashing a large smile from his lion-like face. "So long as my Mighty skills are not outdone by him, I am satisfied."

"Hmph." Viandegroc huffed at such words. He may have been the greatest warrior in the living world, capable of using _anything _as a weapon, outdoing Emurdol and even _Mother _in a clash of blades and bones, but that specialty was an exploitable factor. What could not be killed with weapons eventually lead to the Mighty King's fall from grace. "You're still a bastard. Brother hasn't forgotten what you did to the children." He still shared Emurdol's animosity towards him.

"What's done is done, boy." The revelry in his voice suddenly disappeared, solemn as he conjured the throne he once sat on in his living life behind him and slumped on it, "I lived the life I wished."

Viandegroc eyed him doubtfully, but decided not to argue. Dealing with men who have pride bigger than their own heads tends to make things slow, even in a place where time doesn't even know what to do with itself.

"Yes…..Let's see how much he squeals once he faces the nothingness waiting for him…."

This time, another voice chimed from all around, indicating the arrival of the second guest. In contrast to the Mighty King's boisterous demeanor, this one was low, relaxed, and glazed with seductive honey. It carried the magic to sooth the nerves of any ear who hears it, entrancing them to the source. Whether it be man or woman, they cannot resist it.

What this sultry voice's owner did not expect when she beckoned Emurdol to her chambers was a man free of fleshly desires and burning with the drive to rip her to pieces and reconstruct her bountiful body to massacre her lair's occupants before destroying it.

That was the Marchioness, formerly known among the locals as the Bitch Queen. And he was not surprised for the soft hands to start roaming all over his emulated body from behind, triggering every button with the expertise of a courtesan as well as the typical grab on his groin. Viandegroc never so much as batted an eyelash at the advances, even when the woman ran her tongue on his neck all the way to his ear.

"Welcome back." He greeted dryly, needlessly wiping the saliva trailing down his cheek. "Did you discover something useful?"

"At least I discovered _something_….." She replied, his earlobe in her mouth, her voice carrying the undertone of boredom amidst the effortless seduction. "….Satella has taken the boy to somewhere but I lost track."

"Good enough."

Marchioness sighed tiredly, releasing her hold on Viandegroc and flopping on a chamber bed conjured in-between him and the Mighty King, designed just like the one from her base of operations that was once deep underground. As always she isn't wearing any clothing, exposing the body that got every man and woman into a fit of sinful desire. If she didn't bother to have anything put on, even when she was fighting neck to neck with Emurdol before getting killed, she won't bother either on this side of life where customs of the living world are meaningless.

Her chronic tendency to be seen in all her glory no matter where she goes has been carried over as well, arcing her back and tracing her hands all over her delectable parts. It isn't something deliberate in order to lure a person into her web, it's something she developed in her corrupt lifetime. A _habit_.

None of the men were entranced by it. One born from the Order who are above fleshly desires, and the other too proud to even fall for someone like her. For as long as they know her, they only see a woman doing something that is no different than twirling her hair.

"I'm bored…."

Viandegroc said nothing, used to the same phrase every time she is reminded of no longer being alive.

The Mighty King barely noticed her breathy whine that was practically and literally an invitation, deeming it too above his concerns.

And then they share a silence that the living world couldn't match, saying nothing and doing particularly nothing besides being idle. The Mighty King slouched on his throne, resting his head on his fist as his elbow rested on the armrest. The Marchioness lounged in a way that made her curves apparent, running her fingers up and down her alluringly along her thigh. Viandegroc stood with his arms crossed, still wearing the same grouchy face.

After a certain time where it felt like hours, Viandegroc finally asked, "Where the hell is that charlatan?"

"I left him to retrace Satella's tracks for us….." The Marchioness rolled over to her front, her right hand gripping the sheets a bit tightly as her face expressed an ecstasy that did not even happen. The mere action itself would have been enough to heat up a young man's blood. "….if the mopey bastard is not here too, then he's still searching…."

Irritation flashed throughout the world as Viandegroc kneaded his forehead.

The Mighty King thumped his free fist on the other armrest, "Those Sods dare to make us wait?"

"We can start without them." Viandegroc asserted, annoyance spilling out of his voice before he turned to the Marchioness, "What have you got for us?"

"It is something interesting….." Raising her upper body up, hips lying flat on the bed as she curved her limber back, giving emphasis to her chest, she told everything in a low tone, "…Satella's helping him recover—"

Viandegroc growled and the Mighty King's scowl became even more pronounced.

"—I must say…she's veeeery gentle….." Her head slowly began swaying side to side, her red locks swaying magnificently in a speed that wasn't normal, "….she's not being too forward nor being too forceful…..she's giving him the gentlest touches….a simple handhold….a warm embrace….a listening ear to his troubles—"

"The Whore is seducing the boy!" Thundered the Mighty King, slamming his fist on his throne's armrest. "With him in such an unguarded state, what do you think she would do to him!?"

"You are assuming too quickly." Viandegroc sneered, having the same opinion as well but fought against it. Priests of the Serpent aren't the types to get into conclusions quickly, and he's making that clear by being sensible. "We've seen it explicitly with Mama. There are two entities that comprises who we are dealing with."

"The girl named Satella…..and the Witch of Envy…." The Marchioness's head leaned 90 degrees to the side, her mien wearing the slightest hint of a scowl. A seductive scowl, never revealing the smallest trace of her displeasure. "….an atrocious combination….."

"Then why have you not done anything!?" The Mighty King shot up to his feet, glowering over the Marchioness. "It took much of my Mighty power to hold her back when the Whore arrived at the worst possible time, what do you think might happen when she comes back!?"

"You better have a way of specifying who you are referring to as a 'Whore' among the two entities, _Your Majesty_." Viandegroc pointed out dryly. "Until she's finished, _sit_. Roaring your trust issues on the Benefactor has no practical use except reflecting your opinion."

"As to why I haven't done anything….." The Marchioness's breathing began to quicken. What should be the paced breathing of irritation is instead replaced with the wanting heaves of lust. She turned to face the still-standing Mighty King, betraying no annoyance with her low purr, "….do you think the boy even _wishes _to be brought back to the Living World, especially after what he's been through out there?"

Viandegroc scowled at the point she's making. The Mighty King, however, wasn't willing to back down, "Are you daft, _Thot_!? You're risking him being taken away by that—"

Spinal columns suddenly began emerging all over the world, slithering through everywhere and filling the chaotic void of the Court with the ivory of Viandegroc's creations. "If you say 'Whore' again, I swear to the Dragon—"

Weapons of the throwing variety from throwing knives to spears flew out of the Mighty King's grasp, striking every skeletal tentacle existent and reducing them into dust from the sheer force of impact. "Or what?" He challenged, haughtily looking down on Viandegroc, "Are you _challenging_ the Mighty King, you _disgrace_ of a Newt!?"

The dark world was practically illuminated with the powerful glow of Viandegroc's green eyes, conjuring even more spinal columns of immense size to existence in the realm, scrambling the images everywhere with representations of his hatred. "What did you call me…!?"

"Newt or Disgrace? Which would you like the Mighty King to prefer?" The Mighty King wielded only a small sword, practically a knife in his large right hand. A blatant sign that he viewed his opponent barely above the threat of a chicken. "Or would you appreciate being referred to as the _failure_ of your Order's efforts to cultivate a worthy adversary for me?"

Pale skin now burned red from sheer anger, the realm now filled with nothing but gigantic spinal columns. The Mighty King did not even change his weapon for something appropriate to the setting, still carrying a domineering look on his face while rolling the tiny sword on his fingers, "You bastard!"

Before he could make an attempt to defend the Order of the Serpent's honor, green smoke came, pouring in from everywhere. It enshrouded everything, reducing his line of sight to barely an inch away from his eyes, not even his arms could be seen.

"You dare interfere with my—GUHAGH!"

What had struck the Mighty King amidst his indignant rant had struck Viandegroc as well, striking him clean across the face with enough force to spin him around before hitting the ground. He never saw it coming, no one could, even if their eyes were wide and alert for any incoming attack. Not even Emurdol and Mother together managed to dodge these unseen attacks when they squared off against the creator of this spellcraft.

The Smoky Bull, created from the smoking pipe held in the Marchioness's delicate fingers. Visible gas turned into solid matter, capable of assuming any shape, from weapons to living things, and still be capable of causing absolute harm as if they were the actual product. Its intoxicating scent could even calm a hardened warrior to the floor, making them susceptible to her influence or incapable of defending against her strikes. Being caught in a cloud is already a death sentence, the fate of being crushed or simply torn to pieces awaiting those caught in its grasp. A punch to the face was nothing short of the mercy she was capable of giving.

She lied on her side, supporting her head with the back of her hand as one eye lazily looked over her handiwork while her other hand held on to her pipe, the green smoke escaping from her inviting lips as she chided them, never betraying her annoyed mood with her sultry voice, "Do not to exhaust the supply just because Moman isn't here…." She swayed her pipe downwards slightly and the men's heads smashed to the floors, pushed down in accordance to her will, but the two made no pained grunts to save face from being outdone by her once again. "…..if you two have calmed down, I would like to continue with my report…."

The dense smoke faded away, revealing the Court that conveyed her annoyance and the two men who were rising to their feet, holding certain parts of their heads. Viandegroc said nothing and gestured her to continue, rubbing his forehead and wondered why it hurts so much even though he has no physical body to speak of. The Mighty King grumbled, making no motion to rub the stinging sensation off his face and simply sat back on his throne, crossing his massive arms. Still too high and mighty to even show pain.

"As I were saying…I'm willing to give Satella a chance to do something we cannot do for the boy…..and that is to comfort him when Moman isn't here to do that….." Flicking her pipe away, she rolled to lie on her back again. "…..We have all committed crimes against humanity and him….even if he is here with us, how could he accept our presence so easily despite the years we've spent together with him…..? We were once scum…..and still are….."

"What stops him from rejecting Envy?" Viandegroc asked quickly before the Mighty King could ask the same thing, not wanting to hear the word 'whore' again.

"He doesn't know who she is…..and he's receptive to kindness, even from strangers….." When her eyes became half-lidded, a troubled look became apparent her face. Not a trace of effortless seduction present, just genuine concern. "….without our influence to harden his heart, he's completely vulnerable."

"I don't see that as a good thing." Viandegroc pointed out, noting her expressions.

"….I don't either….I took the time to know Satella better behind Moman's back after we confronted her…."

Now she had the full attention of the two men.

"….she refused to give away anything in regards to his Curse, but her unfounded 'love' for him is true and genuine…." She paused, closing her eyes to remember it. "….love of the sweetest forms….she implored that we support him as much as we can, no matter the grievance we once had towards him nor he us…..she is knowing of the sufferings that come with his Curse…the boy would _break _if he finds out, as you have said before….she does not wish to see him suffer from it…"

The scowl deepened on the Mighty King's lion-like face, still distrustful. A Soul cannot lie, but the three of them are fully aware that Satella, the Witch of Envy is _not _dead. She was in no way a fully-fledged soul, and she _will _have the likelihood to lie.

Viandegroc maintained a leveled expression despite these possibilities, gesturing her to continue.

"….the Witch of Envy I worry about…" In the briefest instant, innumerable veins bulged out of the Marchioness's delicate skin and a terrifying glower on her heart-shaped face before it disappeared, bringing back the Seductress of the East, leaving the impression that it could have been a hallucination, but these men knew better. "….she is _obsessed_…soooo much like me….she thinks so much of her love for him and her _entitlement_ to him that she does not care about what he thinks….she is in love with a _concept_….."

"You are saying that the boy cannot defend against her?" The Mighty King asked.

"…..we can't be too safe…." She gripped the sheets even tighter, burying her face into it. Whether to hide the demon overtaking her beautiful features or the despair on her face, no one can be sure. But she clearly detested the idea of losing Emurdol. "….he's my only lifeline from the Hell waiting for me…."

The Mighty King started, his expression guarded, "Eternal suffering in the Burning Hells…."

"….or the Pit of the Dragon's stomach that will send you into the _nothingness_." Viandegroc finished, his expression the same way.

The three cannot deny the way they lived. They have done horrible things, even enjoyed it, including the others who aren't present at the moment, and as soon as they are separated from their flesh, their souls taken to the compartment that is Emurdol's Soul Wand, they realized the _wasted_ existence they managed in the Living World. They _regretted _it. The loss of material and fleshly importance pushed them over the edge.

Humbled. Broken. Time made them lose their old ways, and every action Emurdol took in his life that they witnessed, felt and experienced all at once, they were influenced out of their former selves. Now they are merely fractured representations of what they used to be, halfheartedly emulating their past lives just to pass the time.

There was an oath Emurdol made when his Final Service in Pandemonium was accomplished. If he was able to return to the Order of the Serpent or if he Went Home and his Mother along with him, he would negotiate with the Dragon to give them a second chance of life. A chance for them to see what it means to have a meaningful life.

Emurdol justified it by being curious, wondering what kind of people they would become if they were above their vices. An experimentation that would benefit the Order of the Serpent in their pursuit for knowledge for human complexity. A selfish venture, he emphasized, not a selfless gesture as he was not one to act on a whim of conscience for _scum _like them.

They believed him, but after living through Emurdol's lifetime inside his wand, familiarizing his mindset to the point that they figured out how he thinks, they knew a deeper meaning behind his so-called _curiosity_.

They would rather have a second life without their former glories instead of the unknown waiting for them when Emurdol finally passes on and destroys the wand, relinquishing them to their fate.

Now the Curse of the Witch complicated that future. If they want to have any chance of their rebirth to happen, they must do everything in their power to keep him safe and his mental state intact, taking after the same role as his Mother.

Viandegroc brought himself out of his ruminations and turned to the Mighty King, "Your turn. What news do you bring?"

There was a firm grimace on his lion-like face. Not a single hint of boisterousness and boastful pride. Viandegroc frowned, this was the _second _time he's seen the giant man wore such an expression since being an inhabitant of the Court. "In the midst of a _bewildering_ domain, I met another Witch."

Viandegroc stiffened, the Marchioness turned to look at him. The Mighty King looked over them both before specifying the Witch in question, "Greed."

Viandegroc looked into space with a grimace and intoned, "Seven sins…."

"….Seven Witches…." Marchioness finished. "…..this world is bizarrely similar to Pandemonium…."

The Mighty King continued, "The legends of their existence are true, and apparently, _none of them _have passed on as we should have."

A dangerous glint reflected from Viandegroc's eyes.

Noticing his demeanor but deeming it above his concerns, the Mighty King continued, "Along with her, the other Sins are suffering a situation not unlike ours, unable to depart to the Afterlife."

The Marchioness turned her eyes to Viandegroc for a moment to notice his unfriendly demeanor and asked in his stead, "What is stopping them?"

"From what I could gather, she is the host of a Trial of some kind, anchoring her soul to the Living Realm. And since she kept the Souls of the other Sins with her, so do they." His fiery eyes of orange hardened, "Interestingly…._Greed _is defined by the want for _knowledge_. _All_ knowledge. Being mortal, however, is an impediment to such a thing….so she once sought _eternal life__, she says…_." His voice grew cold near the end, indicating his spite.

A dark growl escaped out of Viandegroc, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His face had turned red from rage as well, the glow of his eyes comparable to a bonfire.

A glower crossed over the Mighty King's features, "Even the Mighty King would wish for his time to pass once his goals are accomplished, but her? Hmph! Only the lowest of my subjects would even _think _of being immortal. S_tupidit_y, I'd say."

"A _blasphemy_." Viandegroc snapped, "She is _rejecting _the Natural Order of Things. All things die and nourish the living. If she does not wish to contribute for the life she's given, she deserves to be damned in the pit of the Dragon's _gut_!"

"But we don't have the authority to enforce your beliefs, do we? Moman isn't here…." The Marchioness pointed out.

The Mighty King barely had any inclination to acknowledge whatever Viandegroc was saying, continuing where he left off. "From her power, they continue to exist as shells of their former selves just like we are. On another thing, Greed harbors great animosity for the Whore, regardless of which."

"Oy…."

"How have you known such things….?"

"A certain Sin other than Greed has been graced by my presence." The Mighty King puffed up his chest beneath his massive crossed arms, "Sloth. I've spoken to Sloth. As indolent as she is, she made sense of what is going on with _everything _to me….But I refuse to accept that the Whore thinks of the boy's wellbeing, despite her assurances."

The Marchioness relaxed considerably, flopping on her back on the bed without any motion to seduce, and failing tremendously. "If she thinks the same way as I do, then I think it is best we only interfere once Envy shows herself….once the Valet has found her again, that is…"

"Were you sure she wasn't lying?"

"_No one_ can lie to the Mighty King." He emphasized strongly, managing to make it sound like a boast and a factual statement at the same time. "And even if Sloth were to lie, she must have the _willingness _to do so before me. And I saw _none_. She has realized the futility of such an action in front of me."

"Or she could just be too lazy to lie…." The Marchioness mumbled, which the Mighty King either didn't hear or ignored. "And what of Greed…? How did it escalate for you from speaking with her to Sloth…?"

There was a pleased smile morphing onto his features, the example of pure smugness, "In our talk, she is greatly curious about me and my origins, as well as our world. My refusal is, as you would expect, natural as someone like her isn't worthy of my wisdom and knowledge. She happened to be adamant, and so, she attempted negotiations…..and _lied _to me."

…..

…..…..

…..…..…..

It was several moments that lasted for all three Souls to remain still like statues before being mobile once more. Viandegroc smiled wryly, a small chuckle escaping him. The Marchioness brought her index finger to her lips, lightly biting on it to hide her amusement.

There has been a notable thing about the Mighty King in his living life, and it is his explosive temper that arises whenever a lie is said in front of him, no matter how small. It was something he equally matched with the Order of the Serpent, incapable of lying and able to see through lies, but his reactions to them are _larger than life_. Not even a Priest of the Serpent could ever hope to be a match against him.

One could only wonder how Greed managed to hold off a raging King armed with every weapon he ever wielded in his living life, from a wooden fork to the Great Axe that iconized his rule.

The Mighty King verbalized their suspicions, "I have granted Greed the _privilege _to be punished by _me _for her insolence and forced her into making a stalemate to save her own skin despite her immense power."

Viandegroc decided to take a shot at it, "_Stalemate_ being she threw you out of her domain."

"Ha! As if _anyone _could shut out the Mighty King!" He vehemently objected, "She called Sloth to me as an appeasement and disappeared."

"Ah, I see." He figured that made sense. It only questions how he was now outside of it. Did he leave of his own volition or was he suddenly kicked out of it while being distracted by Sloth? He decided not to mention it aloud, it will only lead to useless arguments. "How did you even wander into her domain?"

"With nothing but my divine fortune."

Shamelessly using the word divine as an adjective regarding yourself in front of a Priest of the Serpent, it's practically suicide. If there had been other Priests present, there would be an endless debate over that claim. However, Viandegroc knew the futility of such a thing. The Mighty King is as stubborn as a mountain, immovable unless struck by a falling star. That is by killing him or shoving reality into his face, but how can you be a falling star if he's already dead and incapable of reason over honor as a Soul?

He shook his head over the denied option, "Then would you be so kind as to show us the way there again?"

"Oh, that would not be necessary. This humble servant has done the task for His Majesty."

The silky smooth voice carrying the undertone of great politeness and respect they have expected to hear has finally arrived. He knelt there on one knee, head deeply bowed and a hand to his chest, a dignified form of prostration before the Mighty King without any sign of his arrival until he spoke.

The Mighty King was pleased at his display, putting his hands together in a clap, "And our worthy Servant arrives."

Marchioness looked very far up, her head hanging upside down from her neck as she eyed invitingly at the latecomer, her voice now a moan for the success of the task she left him. "Ah, Valet. How nice of you to come back…."

"Oh please, do not praise such a small thing." He told, elegantly rising to his feet and hid his hands behind him as he faced the Marchioness respectfully. "Had I brought the Master here, it would have been worthy of praise."

Viandegroc's brow twitched over his _reflex _but held it down, quickly heading straight to the point, "Well, what are we waiting for?" He urged, walking over to the Marchioness's bed and kneeling over its occupant.

"I shall allow you to take the lead." The Mighty King relaxed on his throne, barely moving as 4 flexible legs of steel started growing beneath it and began treading onwards behind the Valet's walking form, courtesy of the latter's magic.

"It would be an honor, even if this lowly servant would not be able to meet your standards."

Encircling his arms around the Marchioness's slender waist, he pulled the taller woman back to her feet, eliciting a lustful moan out of her from the mere motion as her back remained arched and curved till she was perfectly upright, which she took the chance to hug Viandegroc's face into her bare well-endowed chest.

He barely batted an eye at such close proximity, his arms hanging beside him. "You're welcome." He told, his voice muffled.

She showed her appreciation further by tightening her grip around his head and pressing her waist against him for a dozen seconds, even making slow but breathy moans before parting, pulling him along by the hand as she went to follow the Valet.

Viandegroc pulled his hand off her slender grip. He knew this place first before she figured out how to navigate it on her own instead of having him teach her so he doesn't need her help.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"A refreshing feeling, isn't it? It is right that I had been the first to be here and relive the pleasures of being alive before you all."

No one made a reply. No one could ask if he had suffered any effects of being brought back to the feeling of being _alive _after so long. The only ones with the gall to do so were currently occupied, the Marchioness and Viandegroc overwhelmed by their reintegration to _flesh _for the very first time since their demise, especially the latter. He may have borrowed Emurdol's vessel, but it pales in comparison to the one he had before his death. To be one with his _own _body once again….it was beyond words for him.

The Court in the Wand was a mere counterfeit to reality. Tangible things from sensations to colors, merely nothing but fabrications created from every individual Soul's memories. What the Mighty King knew about the feeling of grass on his hands and feet, it did not apply to Viandegroc and the Marchioness, who spent almost their whole lifetimes deep underground. They would not know how it feels even if they conjured grass in front of them. What the two knew of the color red, it does not apply to the Valet who splattered blood on his hands under the sun. The Priest and the Seductress lived in darkness, away from the Outside World, knowing only the lightless color of lifeblood running down their hands.

The feeling of air on their lungs. The heat of the sun on their skin. The feeling of grass. The feeling of their hearts beating. The wind blowing through their hairs. The feeling of being _made _of flesh, blood and bones. The feeling of being _existent_. The pure feeling of being _alive_…

It was a paradox. They were _dead_, Souls, nothing more than reflections of their former selves upon their demise under Emurdol's hand, and yet within this place, the domain of the Witch, they never felt more alive. This serene land of grass, hills, sky and wind perfectly emulated _Life_ itself.

It took nearly 5 hours for the two of them to orient themselves properly. Only the Valet and the Mighty King were the only ones who didn't suffer the effects, likely from having experiencing it firsthand before they did and have gone ahead to find their quarry. The last person to be complete was the Marchioness, for multiple reasons….

"If you dare stimulate yourself, woman…" Viandegroc growled, watching as her fingers were slowly inching to her nether regions. "….when you said that you wanted to see Satella and Brother—"

"But it's been so loooong….!" She whined, far even more expressive and genuine with her suggestive voice and movements. She was already biting her finger to restrain herself from reaching the breaking point of her self-control. "….please…allow me just a few more….even you had a moment of revelry when you borrowed the boy's body…..!"

"Because Mama told me to." He pointed out, trying not to get distracted by his own voice vibrating from his throat. It's completely different to what he kept hearing in the Realm, and the act of _talking _itself felt completely _alien_. "If you do not focus, I will make you relive the death Brother has given you!"

The memory of that time made her halt immediately, mentally and physically. Emurdol did not show any mercy when he killed her, made her experience every lick of agony her body was capable of feeling, and he made sure that she lived as long as possible with Mother force-feeding her every healing elixir he had in hand. The potions heal wounds but they are completely incapable of curing poisons brewed in the hands of a Priest of the Serpent.

She never remembered how she _gratefully_ died. Whether she suffocated from her vomit or the bitter healing liquid shoved down her throat, or from the shock of the pain, she doesn't want to know.

If she was forced through that hell again, in a state where she is already dead and incapable of _dying _in general, in the hands of another Priest of the Serpent who was capable of making the same poison through his memories, what would happen to her?

She shook her head to brush out the trauma filling her head, her fiery red hair swishing in waves before she gently rose to her feet, feeling the wind brush past her slender form and basking in the forgotten feeling. She let out a deep sigh, signifying her focused mentality.

"You should get dressed too." Viandegroc told offhandedly, brushing his hands across the sleeves of the robes he wore before his death, relishing the feeling of fabric on his virgin hands and skin. "Satella would rather see you with more modesty than that ring of yours could manage."

The Marchioness huffed before she brought her ornate pipe to her lips, taking a deep pull before blowing out a massive green cloud of intoxicating vapor, spreading out to the air before it moved to surround her naked body, providing her the same amount of privacy a bath towel would. Dark blue eyes turned to the Priest for confirmation.

He shrugged, "Good enough." Moving his chin-length hair of silver away from his youthful face, he began walking onwards to the three people located atop the hill, one among them the last and final guest who did not arrive to the meeting of the Court. He eyed the person's back, "I was wondering where _he's_ been, so _he_ was here the whole time."

Red locks flying behind her magnificently from the cool breeze, the green cloud around her form barely fazed by it, the Marchioness followed after him. "At least he held the duty of vigil before anyone of us had….."

With the Marchioness now beside him, Viandegroc turned to realize for the very first time in death that he only reached her breasts in regards to height. It was a common characteristic for Priests of the Serpent to be tall, even at their 14th turn like him, but the woman's height is just _ridiculous_.

When she noticed him looking, he met her eyes for a slight moment before facing forward once more. Instead of questioning it, she remarked a certain detail, "Compared to the boy, you are as young as you look….."

It was true. Unlike Emurdol, who was cursed to live his life appearing as if he were at his senior years due to the adversities he suffered hardening his features, Viandegroc purely carried the image of a young man. A young man who is yet to suffer the trials that await him as a Priest of the Serpent, where he will roam the world for knowledge and truth, cull the lands of false Necromagi and hellspawn that crossed his path, and eventually find his place in the world, all while suffering the disgust and rejection of Above-Worlders. He carried all the childlike features: clear and unblemished pale skin that nearly matched a corpse, green eyes bright with energy, a small nose yet to suffer the elements, and a smooth brow.

Time in the wand, however, matured his mind, and watching Emurdol's passage in life shaped his mentality in more ways than one. "Our appearances hardly matter anymore, does it? We have passed on from the Life Before to here. You heard what he said, we are nothing but shells of our former selves. Unchanging and static for our being no longer living."

It was a disheartening thing to hear but the Marchioness wasn't one to look at the dark side of things too often, "But it is a nostalgic thing, yeeeesss…?"

Viandegroc said nothing, but he was inclined to believe that she had a point. He missed being alive, and he regretted being a wasteful existence when he reflected on _why _he died.

As soon as they were reaching the trio, walking up the rising slope of the hill they were on, the first to turn around and greet them was the ever helpful Valet, "Ah. Good of you both to finally join us. Things have been rather calming that we need not interfere with what is going on."

"Good to hear." Viandegroc replied, looking over the man in his whole form.

He was tall, equal of height to the Marchioness. His back was straight, his poise impeccably graceful and his voice never failed to maintain its silky smooth intonation. Whatever build he had in life, it was obscured completely by dark brown robes that crossed a mantle and a monk's robes together. Whatever he had to show for skin was nearly nil, for his hands were covered with tight-fitting leather gloves and his feet fashioned with pointy boots. A hood was drawn over his head and eyes, with a wide-brimmed hat to top it off, hiding everything from the nose up in obscurity. His face was pale, nearly equal to Viandegroc's own, but his visible skin was riddled with lines of scars. A result of the knife that continually ran all over his face whenever his mood is sour.

The Valet interpreted his prolonged stare for something else, "If you have an order for me, do not hold back to tell this humble servant. I shall do so with all my diligence."

"Then I'll have you answer my question." He pointed to the fifth person, "_He_ was here the whole time?"

"Ah, yes. After His Majesty, he has been the first to find this place before I had." Viandegroc's brow rose in interest at that. "He volunteered to watch over the Master and Satella before having me report the location to the three of you."

The first to die under Emurdol's hand outside the Underground City, and yet the first to make the most sensible action among the five of them. Viandegroc could not be more impressed, considering how he was utterly ruined by the one he was holding vigil over before his death.

He smirked lightly, walking over the squat-sitting young man and ruffled his silky brown hair. "Impressive work."

"Mm." That was the only reply given, keeping his eyes trained on the pair that seemed to be having a pleasant time on another separate hill.

Compared to the five of them, the Jester still hasn't come to terms with his death despite the years. Viandegroc wondered if it came with being a psychopath in life, burdened by guilt and self-reproach as a Soul. He would have been a Hollow, screaming and moaning his lamentations and regrets in the living world as an apparition of dark emotions if he wasn't imprisoned in the wand.

The man himself was dressed in a noble's garb, clean and prim, consisting of the brightest colors. His facial features indicated his well-off origins, fair and handsome, fresh into his young adult years, but it was dulled by the detached look on his dark eyes. The collar of his fine attire was raised up, covering his entire neck. It seemed the place where Emurdol struck him down still stung to this day. Compared to all of them, he was particularly unique. Despite his twisted ways in his living life, he was the closest among five of them to be _human_. The rest, including Viandegroc himself are just pure anomalies.

The Priest turned his eyes to where the noble transfixed his eyes on, another grassy hill, where a certain white-haired woman with elven ears was found kneeling. And next to her was a Little Boy of pale skin and silver locks, asleep with his head on her lap while Satella whispered sweet nothings to his ear and stroked his hair.

It was _not _Emurdol.

Viandegroc sighed in relief, "He's okay."

"I still don't trust her." A gruff voice said lowly, the Mighty King sat on his throne while the head of his Great Axe sat in-between his feet with both his hands resting on the pommel of the handle. He clearly looked ready to intervene and break the moment between the two silver-haired individuals. The only thing stopping him were the consequences of forcing an emotionally-vulnerable little boy back into the world that broke him apart. "But as of now, my concerns lie elsewhere."

"Which is?"

"Look to the side…." The Marchioness waved her pipe to the right.

He did, and what Viandegroc saw made his body stiffen greatly, his hands curling over a knife that wasn't there. Now that he noticed it, everybody's forms were as stiff as he is, still as statues, the muscles beneath their flesh coiled tightly in preparation, even the Valet whose body language indicated nothing but caution. What for, he could only guess what.

"Is that—"

"Yes." The Mighty King answered, his tone low and cautious. The reason for his Great Axe's presence was now fully realized.

"Has she—"

"No. Under my watchful eye, she will _not._"

"Good." Still fixing his eyes on the sight, he then moved around the throne and began walking down the hill, intending to confront this monstrosity.

"Do you plan to attend the occasion…?" The Marchioness asked, half-lidded eyes of dark blue fixed on the Priest's back.

"I would _wreck_ it if I am not entertained properly." He snapped, his green eyes blazing bright inside his sockets and his hair beginning to float. Auras of green were now permeating out of his hands, which he hid behind his back.

"Then you might need a date…." The alluring smell of her vapors reached his nose before the woman caught up beside him, her pipe firmly held in her right hand while her other is likely placed below her large bosom behind the green cloud. "If you would have me…."

Viandegroc said nothing, knowing very well that her state of mind is not at all calm. If she's not calm, she's not fit to talk to anybody she didn't like. Her role as his 'date' is basically standing in the background, readying her Smoky Bull in case something suspicious happens.

Now that he realized it, he's actually _not _qualified to win in a fight if it ever happens. Compared to possessing Emurdol's body, his only arsenal is the creation of tentacle-like spinal columns that do not seem to end and nothing else. His ability with the knife is also lacking. The Marchioness's presence might serve as a precaution. Her combat abilities are one of the most lethal among the five of them, second to the Mighty King with the axe.

His stride was unhurried, keeping his glowing hands behind him. The Marchioness maintained the image of composure and lax, occasionally taking small pulls from her pipe and blowing out the green smoke to be taken away by the constant breeze. No conversation, no sound except for the rustles of the grass as they walked and the puff of smoke. A phenomena was beginning to fill their minds. It was preceded by the stiff air around them…..

And at the right distance, they finally see _her_.

Viandegroc nearly mistook the woman for another Priest of the Serpent, perfectly matching the skin and locks of pure white, born from natural genetics, lack of sunlight exposure and constant dwelling in necromantic magics. Her clothes were of pure black, with traces of lighter shades, making her physical features become even more prominent. Another comparison to the Order. Her black pupils, however, set her apart from the similarities, as his people have brighter colors in their sockets than that. Her eyes carried curiosity, something the Order could match, but the _desire _and _hunger _behind it now made her completely distinct. The phenomena filling their minds was nothing but _caution. _The pressure of her presence is an unsettling thing itself, sending aftershocks of self-preservation to Viandegroc's mind that he never knew to have in his living life.

He doesn't know this woman, but he now has a perfect idea thanks to several clues from the Mighty King's report and the look in her eyes.

Long white hair swaying in the wind with enough magnificence to match the Marchioness, a black tome in her grasp, and her beautiful face expressing a polite smile of greetings, the woman began, "Though you are uninvited and have intruded, having guests with special bodily makeup like you two over are actually a first for me." She dipped into a curtsy, her free hand taking the hem of her skirt and bowing lightly. "Welcome to my domain. My name is Echidna."

In perfect unison, Viandegroc recited the moniker along with her.

"The Witch of Greed."  
"The Witch of Greed."

Echidna's smile widened further.

His scowl deepened.

Marchioness let out a long puff of smoke.

"I can sense trepidation and caution from the both of you. I can find that understandable, but if you both sit down and join the Witches' Tea Party, I would be more than happy to answer any questions you have to pacify that."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The upper half of a skull in her left front hand, hollowed out and filled with water, Mother walked on with an unhurried pace back to her temporary lair deep within the ground. The excavation was barely any trouble or effort, thanks to the capable hands of her soldiers. Without the barriers of exhaustion, sustenance, and flesh, it took merely a whole day for the hole in the earth to become a decent hideout.

But given the circumstances for its creation, it might as well be a cruel prison.

Walking past the guarded zone where prowlers of supreme makeup hid from sight and were ordered to kill anybody who weren't her son or herself, through the untamed vegetation of the witchbeast forest without spilling the contents of her ivory cup, she finally reached the opening to the earth found before the biggest tree….and there were signs of someone _alive_ having passed through it.

In her sudden rise of hostility, she crushed the skull in her hand to literal dust, the contained water spilling through her steel fingers. There was a drop of 20 meters before one's feet could reach the ground within. There weren't any walls of dirt adjacent to the opening, making it impossible to escape unless one could jump high enough. And her prisoner does not have the ability to be moving anywhere in her condition.

Which can only means that someone has broken in. Someone who managed to break through the squadron of warriors she had spread out everywhere as sentries…someone who _knew_ where her Prisoner is taken….it cannot be her son. She would have noticed his presence otherwise.

Which can only mean it's somebody associated with her prisoner, coming to the rescue. From what she could see, the intruder is still inside.

Sickles and krises drawn out, she crossed her arms close to herself and jumped down the circular opening, sinking into the imperceptible darkness and landing silently against the dirt. A ceiling of earth that should have caved in was instead held up tenaciously by supports and beams of ivory design. It would have been similar to being in the inside of a ribcage, with curving white pillars pressing against the walls and a massive spinal column lining the middle at the top. It wouldn't have been possible without her son's mana-restoring robes to supply her mana-deficient form.

But she wasn't regarding the structure, her attention was on the bone fragments scattered all over the dirt floors. There should be 10 skeletons waiting for her as soon as she went down, and here is what's left of them. What's more is that they seem to have been _cut _down with a blade instead of being bashed with a blunt weapon, which is a feat in of itself. They cannot be defeated so easily, especially in the darkness where most mortals have no advantage of.

Whoever is capable of surviving even _10 _of the Queen of Ivory's soldiers is automatically proven to be formidable and must be met with caution. It could have been a mage who knew how to dispel the algorithm keeping the souls in her skeletons inside but they would have been _intact_ piles of bones otherwise.

Weapons at the ready, she broke into a sprint, silent in her every step as the darkness surrounding her, not once stepping on any bone fragments to give away her presence. In this murky darkness, only the dead and those with impressive senses are capable of traversing through without a torch. An environment the Order of the Serpent would gather to. A place her prisoner had no hope of escaping from unless she's really lucky, _after_ forcing herself to stand through the agony the Toxin was giving her.

She had originally planned to torture the guilty one once the excavation was finished, but with her son's blood now coursing through her prisoner's body, making her suffer the elements were no longer applicable. Not even infection through open wounds and deprivation of care. But that gave opportunities to a very simple but long-lasting punishment. Painful, and violating the bodily systems in more ways than one the greater the distance was between her son and the prisoner.

And she chose the furthest location possible where the pain would be more than unbearable. Not too far that it kills the guilty one from the shock, but not too close that it made the pain bearable. Mother made sure she was given water, only a cupful and no more every single day. It's no fault of hers if the prisoner spilled too many of her precious liquid to the floor for writhing in pain too much.

What else could someone who put her son through so much deserved?

Three days of suffering are _not _enough compensation for her son's voice, sacrifices, disappearance and despair. Whoever dares to obstruct the proceedings deserves nothing more than the end of her blades, and it's going to happen to the intruder in this cave.

The cries and moans of pain were getting nearer as she neared the end of the cave, where she had dumped her prisoner in another pot hole. Some other times it was the wails of a crying child, most times it was _begging_, begging to be killed and be set free of her agony. It was a pitiful thing to hear, enough to strike the sympathies of anyone who could hear it. Even more for how she was put there. She was given no bed nor blanket. She's left to lie on the dirty ground and be tormented from the chilling and humid air with what little warmth her little dress could do to fight against it.

Cruelty that only the worst of humans could do. But Mother was not alive, no longer classified as a _human _anymore, she cared for nobody's wellbeing but her son's, and her fury is still fresh in her Soul. The things she do, all purely out of the wrath for her only family. It will know _no _bounds.

"My goodness….you are a sorry sight, aren't you, Meili?"

Mother knows that voice, so she slowed down.

"Look at you, sick and weak, dumped in a hole with your excrements, tears, snot and drool running down your face, and your entire body covered all over with black veins because of that bite on your arm—were you playing around the job again?"

A glow of light was there, a torch held by the owner of this familiar voice. It illuminated the dirt, the walls held back by giant ribs as well as the giant spinal column on the ceiling. It illuminated _two_ living entities, one standing and the other down on the ground inside a depressed area close to the end of the cave.

Mother approached silently, weapons at the ready.

"This brings back the time when I found you on the forest, doesn't it? Except this time, you are seriously in need of my hel—"

Words were cut short. The slender hand that was reaching out to pull the little girl out of the hole was severed, a clean cut at the elbow. Before the intruder's mind could realize what just happened, her other arm was sliced clean off the shoulder, the held torch dropping to the ground with the dismembered hand still holding it. Two deep stabs from the back came afterwards, the point of the krises piercing through the spine and protruding out of her abdomen before she was lifted off the ground.

Before the sensation of pain could reach her mind, her head was already lopped off from her body, landing on the dirt floors with a light thud, the long braid trailing behind it.

Without ceremony, Mother flung the body to the side from her krises. Her prisoner's moans and cries were cut short from the sudden violence in front of her, bloodshot eyes wide at her abrupt arrival and finally being able to _see _her captor, illuminated by the dropped torch at Mother's feet. Three days spent in darkness, eyesight deprived of use while her entire body suffered unimaginable pain left her mind running in _what_ is happening to her, now she is graced with merely a skull leering back at her, blue pinpoints filling the void of the sockets while the rest of the body is nowhere to be seen, except for the krises and sickles held at the side, held by _four _metallic claws with the latter weapon almost invisible in the darkness.

Her prisoner, the Seventh Child, the culprit of the witchbeast ruckus at the village, the girl the intruder had referred to as 'Meili', looked completely _horrible. _She once was pure, beautiful and fragile when her son found her there in the clearing, _asking _to be rescued in her cursed state. Now she's the opposite of it all since her capture; she's ruined, grimy and broken. Her hair's in disarray along with her braid, some of her blue locks sticking to her sweaty forehead and temples. Her blue dress was tattered, dirty and the front splattered with her vomit. Her skin, white as snow but now heavily marred with her son's blood running through her veins, staining them black and bulging through her flesh. Her legs are the only places with visible injuries. One ankle seemed to be _crushed_, the other leg had a long laceration running from the calf to the back of the knee. With no proper latrine nearby and her mobility impaired in more ways than one, her excrements freely flowed down her legs whenever it arrived.

A truly pitiful sight.

Mother's jaw made a biting snap, making the girl flinch and immediately, the agony in her body slipped past her distracted mind and attacked her once again, sending her back into the moaning and crying mess she had been these three days; it's still not enough. More suffering. She needs to _pay_.

With her foot raised up, the torch on the ground is stomped, taking the light away and sending Meili back to the devouring darkness, leaving her clueless as to what's happening to herself. Physical torment is one thing, psychological torment is another, carrying more significant impact to the mind. Let her imagination be the death of her.

Then Mother felt the hostility and the _life _permeate behind her.

In a flash of light that illuminated the darkness in a brief instant, sparks erupted from a collision between krises protecting the neck and the kukri coming to swipe at it. The image of the assassin back at that loot house pouncing at Mother's neck with a crazed expression as her head and two arms were now reconnected back to her torso.

Elsa had come back to life. Mother won't care how, she'll just kill her over and over again if she has to. See if she could stand the variety of ways she can kill a person. Can a _living _woman keep up against perpetual motion only the Dead are capable of?

"I see you're without your wearer there. Where is the Handsome?" Came a question out of the imperceptible darkness, Elsa's voice containing an absurd mix of honey and venom. "His bowels and I have a meeting to—"

A sharp ring silenced all notions of conversation, courtesy of a sickle slicing through the air to behead the woman once more, only to be blocked by the purple blade, causing another eruption of sparks that created a flash of light in the artificial cavern.

Reaper of Ivory and Steel. The Bowel Hunter. Women of lethal skill, mistresses of life-ending capability, one for souls and the other for bowels, zipping all over the cave in absurd speeds it wasn't possible to see them in any kind of tangible form except two black blurs whenever they collide together and illuminate the place with sparks of light.

In the midst of Meili's agony, she never took her eyes away from the only source of light that was the ensuing violence between ivory and steel against flesh.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Ram woke up groggily as the sun shone through the windows, landing on her beautiful features. Groaning softly, she turned away from the bright morning and yawned magnificently, rubbing the sand off her eyes. Once her eyes had adjusted to the light, she looked over her room once more.

Expectedly seeing no one, she sighed.

"….Rem might not dress Ram today…." She assumed, and she knew why. She moved to the dresser, talking out her maid outfit and doing her daily rituals without Rem's helping.

Her little sister has been developing insomnia since the Pale One was brought to the Mansion to recuperate, and the cause is no other than the guilt eating away at her heart. This was a lot worse compared to the time when they were brought to this mansion after the massacre of the Demon Village. It was destroying her performance and health. Her poise remained unchanged but her demeanor was more silent than ever, even when Ram spoke to her. Either a single word or a mechanical drone. She was practically lifeless when she performed her regular duties, blue eyes seeing nothing and every movement done automatically instead of with diligence. When it was night time, she took more rounds than necessary around the mansion. It took Ram's personal intervention to confront her about this behavior before she finally took a restful sleep due to crying herself to sleep on her shoulders.

It had been quite the talk between the both of them. Rem broke down and wept over how she was responsible for _everything_ that happened to Emurdol, how she even _hid _it from Lady Emilia. Ram figured the reason why the Great Spirit even hid the truth from his daughter when he could have read it from her little sister's mind was for the intention of keeping her calm as well. If the half-elf knew about the whole context behind _why _the Pale One ran away and decided to cull the forest all by himself, she could only wonder.

A scowl crossed Ram's features, adjusting the headdress that accompanied her outfit before looking over herself on the mirror. Without her little sister at her side to applaud her wonderful form, she only took a second to see a prim and proper maid standing in front of her before she turned towards the door and left her room.

Perhaps it is time to give her little sister a well-deserved day of rest. No duties, no work. Just a time for her mind to settle down. Rem would definitely refuse as she would see it as troubling her elder sister and the others if her duties are neglected just for her own convenience, but Ram will be firm when it comes to that. Too much stress is not something she will accept poisoning her sister.

Without the need to knock, she opened the door to Rem's room and entered the minimally-decorated quarters. Seeing her well-rested form on the bed, looking like an angel compared to the mess she was last night—

Ram's eyes widened instantly, her entire form freezing very still.

…..

…..…..

…..…..…..

Rem's chest wasn't rising, and her skin was paler than before, enough to match the Pale One in a healthy state.

Horror attacked Ram's heart, her mind overriding over the possible meanings these had but she refused to acknowledge them.

_No….no…..no!_

She hurried over and reached the bedside, her hands on Rem's shoulders and shaking her, none too gently. "Rem. Rem! Wake up!" She wasn't waking up. No matter how hard she shook her, her little sister wasn't fluttering her eyes open. There was no squeak or moan of protest. No crease of the brow due to discomfort. _Nothing. _Her fears began to heighten, rising further and further, her breathing racing along with her heart, the sweat on her brow worsening.

_This cannot be true. This cannot be true. It cannot be true. No. Nononononono….._

Her grip on her shoulders shaking, she slowly brought her ear to Rem's chest, her hesitation to be quick about it an indication of her fearing the worst. Her heart pounded in her ears, the world seeming to fall all around her, the sun from the window's making a mockery of what's happening, the quiet of the morning now a sound more horrifying than anything she ever experienced.

_Quiet. Too quiet. It's too quiet. Must not be quiet. It should not be quiet._

She listened, her ear pressed tightly against Rem's chest, hoping to dispel the Quiet with her little sister's heartbeat.

And her entire world fell into black, for silence now ruled her life. It is _Quiet_ now, for the last of her own life is now taken from her.

"**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**"

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"….have I been impolite?" Echidna asked innocently after watching Viandegroc storm out of her domain, puzzled that the Priest suddenly stood up from his chair and angrily left when she thought she had a good momentum going between them in their conversation.

"Hmph..." The last guest of the Witch's Tea Party huffed a puff of green smoke from her nose, "….you annoy him, Greed…." The Marchioness pointed out, her voice a dull purr.

"Truly? I thought I have done my best to be a gracious and charming hostess…"

"He is a Priest of the Serpent, and putting on airs instead of being upfront about who you are aren't something you should do in front of his kind…..." The Marchioness took a long pull from her pipe, taking a moment to savor the sensation in her lungs as well as her body before blowing out a cloud above the table, morphing it into a skull. "….as a fellow Soul who no longer has the right to _pretend_, I share his feelings…you annoy me, Greed…"

"But I have been upfront." Echidna insisted, "I am a Wicked Witch after all, it is within my _nature_ to be mysterious."

Half-lidded eyes of dark blue turned to face the black orbs resting on the sockets of the Witch of Greed. The _hunger _and desire for knowledge in them never left, insatiable and _driven_, not even before they even properly greeted each other. The Marchioness greatly detested the look, "…and now, you're _lying_ to me….no wonder His Majesty attacked you…."

The Witch was about to make a rebuttal, then her eyes furrowed in question when a sudden change arrived on the seductress: the Marchioness's eyes were wide.

….

…..

…..

Silence.

Dead silence.

Deafening silence.

Dreadful silence.

Unbearable silence.

…

…..

A cold grimace that intermingled with horror rested on the Marchioness's face, all her natural glamour completely nonexistent. She was fully animated in her shock. The pipe fell from her hands, and her fingers trembled. "…something's wrong."

The fields of grass and the blowing winds were halted, as if time had literally stopped. There was a surge of wariness filling every member of the Court's hearts. A sensation of danger. A wave of self-preservation. It is as if their lives were in danger, even though they are already dead. It was an old and forgotten phenomena. They could only trace it to only one moment in their life.

And that moment was the time when Emurdol now became the one in control, having full advantage over them in their final confrontation, and the mere possibility of _death _now a conceivable outcome.

"Sally?" Echidna tilted her head at the alarm on the woman's face. "What is wrong?"

And then, they felt _it_.

Sally's head snapped to look behind her. Lucifer shot up from his throne, swatting it aside to look at what's happening behind it. William's robes swished wildly from his sharp twirl to face what's behind him. Bartholomew nearly fell on his side to look at what it was.

The Little Boy turned a grim look in the same direction, Satella wearing a concerned face for his change of demeanor.

For a moment, the Silence droned on…..

….and in the next, the Little Boy was now gone, along with the others.

The fields of grass rolled and the winds blew as if nothing unusual has happened. The only indication of the oddity that occurred were the confused look on the Witch of Greed's face and the worry clouding over Satella's.


	12. The Shade

Darkness. Stillness. Silence.

Fulfill all three conditions and you open a passage for the Reaper into your midst. It is, however, unlikely for the apparition to be present when you are a good person. Because a good person does not automatically assume that just because someone has a terrifying appearance, it immediately means that the person is a worker of evil. If you happen to be such a person, you are not a good person.

Mother will kill only a bad person, she will never do anything to a good person.

Rem is _not _a good person.

She sees her son as only a threat when he never wished to be, hiding her malicious thoughts behind a mask of politeness and professionalism. She _pretended _in front of him. Her son _abominated_ such a thing. Despite all the efforts and things he's done to exert his harmlessness, she was stubborn. Come the night when she attacked him the first time, it took so much of her nonexistent self-restraint just to pardon that felony out of her son's goodness and mercy as well as the suggestion of Viandegroc, she even had to make it all seem like a dream so the maid doesn't get the trouble of being punished for such an unruly action when she is questioned. Despite being lectured and set straight by her kin, she has _not _learned.

It drove her son to leave, for _her _sakes at that. And even when he had, the maid still does not wish to give him the rest he deserved after all the things he did for the Order, for the ones who hated him, for the ones who _loved _him, for _everyone _back in Pandemonium. Her actions and continued stubbornness led him to the loss of his _voice_. It despaired him the next morning, turning his desire for his passage to the Afterlife as an honorable departure into an _escape_. A thought that strayed from the Order of the Serpent's Ideology.

And when she thought it couldn't get any worse, her son was now in _Satella's _company in the process of _saving_ that maid **again**. The person who complicated _everything _to the worst.

Rem's crimes are insurmountable. Satella's crimes are insurmountable. But the glaring individual who has done worse is the former.

So she _dies_ tonight, just like the ones before.

She had been there, in the halls of the mansion, leaving no signs of her presence and never once seen by any of its inhabitants. Not even the two Spirits were ever the wiser. The Reaper looked from the shadows, watching when the guilty maid wept over her actions, lamenting what they had led to her son and crying on her kin's shoulder, but she isn't swayed. She is past the point of forgiveness. She is irredeemable. She is not worthy of the life given to her. It must be relinquished in reparation for what she's done.

Like the times she had done to other guilty people before, her life will end without the slightest hint of it coming.

It will not be with a sickle to behead, nor a neck snap, nor a structured accident. Just a simple prickle from one of the worst poisons to ever exist in her arsenal.

Her son's blood had tinges of toxins, a side-effect from one of his many experimentations and due to special circumstances. A recipe that cannot be replicated by regular means. Not only that, it carried the will of its owner too. With tiny clumps of mana filling each blood cell, it held the slightest trace of Emurdol's emotions. Her son despised the maid despite his efforts to save her, the reason why the latter still lived is because of his own good will. Take away that good will and let only the emotions of loathing take over, the only outcome for that girl is _death_. The one thing he _wanted for himself_, _**in her place**__._

For someone like _**HER**_….

There is no breaking point capable of pushing an Unresting Soul like her to the limit that was ever so effective than _**THAT**_.

And now, she stood at the bedside of her target, her skull looking down while the blue pinpoints in her void-like sockets glared at Rem's sleeping face. She watched, like a statue. Unmoving and fixed in place, looming over the harvest before she sets herself to the Reaping. She waited for a certain amount of time. When, exactly? Not even she would know. She's going at her own pace. There is no hurry here. The night's still young.

The room was dark, but a Soul is never impeded by such ocular limits. The window with the curtains swept aside to show the night sky still isn't enough to let the moonlight illuminate the room as it only shined the interloping assassin in its pale blue light, failing to overpower the robes of eternal darkness she wore. Time passes and the angle of the light moved upwards and to the left, slowly.

At the passage of a whole hour, Rem's sleeping face that contained its own natural beauty finally became a _stunning _image, made divine by the enshrining glows of the Dragon's eye peeking from the sky and through the window.

She wants the Dragon to see it. All of it. And now's her cue.

In delicate movements, one clawed thumb and index finger reached up to her skull and plucked out a tiny black needle held in-between her canines. As long as two inches, made entirely out of sharpened bone, straight from the carcass of a witchbeast, and dipped in the blood that ran through her prisoner's veins. That little girl's blood signature, genetic coding and DNA is long overwritten, turning her into what is essentially her son's _clone _of a different form_. _What toxin existed in Emurdol's blood, it now belongs to her. Even if inferior in potency, it's still poison and her son's spite will make it worse.

She neared it to the side of the neck opposite to her and gave her pristine skin a rough scratch. She does not _have _to prick the skin, unless she risks the target waking up from the pain and seeing what she was doing to her, even if sleeping and tired from weeping. Poisons from the Order of the Serpent are very special, no one Above-World could hope to match their concoctions, and her son is someone who likes to meet the standards of his seasoned seniors, herself being his first role-model. Poisoning via bloodstream, consumption, breathing or fluid contact is considered inferior and simple. Poisoning via touch is the epitome of Poisoncraft. Even if the flesh didn't break, even if it wasn't breathed in, even if heavily protected, it _will_ put down your target at some point whether today or tomorrow, incurable unless you deem it so.

Emurdol's poison mixtures may not have reached the highest standards but its potency will speak for its effectiveness. How it is easily controlled is another determinable mark in the criteria, and he earned the praise of his evaluators when he added his own blood and mana into the mix that made it very pliable according to his emotions towards his target as well as his personal aptitude in blood magic.

Mother applauded him when he managed the feat, and she applauded him even more for giving her such wonderful tools for her second line of work aside from being the Guardian who took care of his wellbeing and helped him walk.

Reintegrating the needle to the roof of her jaws, she left the scene and disappeared into the night.

Come morning or the day after, the maid will no longer breathe and her son is free of another lying cur in his midst.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Viandegroc integrated himself to Emurdol's vessel, the sensations of Life flowing all over him in a way that's not unlike what he experienced in that damn Witch's domain. His heart began to beat in a regular pace compared to before he was conscious, his lungs now pacing up alongside it, making the insides of his chest come alive as it rose and fell.

The sensations of a soft mattress supporting his back, he sighed pleasantly as soon as he was able to get a long deep breath. Living is indeed supreme. His brother's tall structure and heavily-experimented frame made all the distinctions plain compared to his own body in the domain that had been young, short and yet to be modified by his own volition.

Opening his eyes and quickly twisting to the side, he covered his face with his armored right hand and turned away from the blinding light that happened to be the sun blasting through the _open _windows of Emurdol's borrowed quarters.

"Tsk." He clicked his teeth. They never remember much, do they?

He's sure to meet some company later, maybe in the form of a white-haired half-elf throwing herself at him, crying and exclaiming gladness for his recovery.

As much as a recovery could be when he just came out of the most annoying tea party hosted by the most annoying woman he ever met. A _Witch _of all things. What's worse than a regular Witch is a Witch who acts like a _human._ At least Brother was not taken away by Envy, instead comforted by Satella, who he still doesn't trust unlike Sally but it's better than seeing the Little Boy he was fond of crying with the Court incapable of giving him any consolation because they were all corrupt scum who do not have any idea of being a real human anymore.

Viandegroc can only hope that he finds the will to live again, but that's easier said than done. The man's emotions are very deep. He's not so easily broken but the circumstances of being in another world sure done him in. He was finally able to gain the trust of the Above-World, made the Order of the Serpent better than ever, he wanted to settle down….and now he's put back to where he started in this world Satella forced him to.

"Tsk." He could have growled, but Emurdol's throat is still damaged so he just sighed.

If he can venture further with what he can do in the living world, indulge in what a Priest of the Serpent usually does in his spare time, maybe he can make Brother's homecoming a little more welcoming than it should. As far as he knows, the Mansion no longer has any reason to have any distrust on him anymore….._especially that little bitch_.

The nearby village definitely trusts him now too, considering Brother just saved their children from a cold death in the hands of Gluttony's spawn, as what Greed had said to have originated from as opposed to the common belief that Satella was the one responsible. From the looks of it, he's likely no longer seen as a threat anymore. These factors won't be enough to put Emurdol's mind at ease, however. His heart's still broken, in despair. Mother isn't even here to coax him out. Even if Satella managed to bring him out of his down mood, would he even be _willing _to come back to the Living World?

He sighed. Too many things to think about, and lying on his side facing away from the sun isn't going to give him any clues as to what to do yet.

Rising to sit on his rear, Brother's stumps keeping him steady alongside one hand before he stretched his stiff back that had been lying down for a whole four days. Delicious crackles rolling across his back and joints, including his neck as he rolled it, he snapped his fingers and the skeleton that had been sitting in the corner since Emurdol first left the mansion became mobile again, circling the bed till it sat beside him.

The blueprints already in mind, he grabbed the bony shoulder and morphed its entire frame into something that's not unlike Mother's, with the pelvic area reshaping like clay so it can comfortably hold his stumps. Unnecessary components were quickly detached in the process, arms, neck and skull falling off their places, landing on either the bed or the floors, making a light landing or a heavy thud.

Undressing his robes and pants, leaving him in his undergarments, the skeleton effortlessly picked him up under the arms and secured him perfectly into its frame, the ribcage closing around his chest and tightening just enough to feel like armor. Standing up on his skeletal feet, finding balance very easily, and testing the spine's flexibility with a few stretches, finding it decent, he wore back his pants and robes, leaving the front open to reveal his pale chest and muscled abdomen.

He yawned, stretching once more before walking out of his room, leaving it open so it will indicate his awake state. He's hungry, and maybe a little thirsty. No. wrong words. He's _very _thirsty. If he remembers right, Brother never actually drank _anything_ since leaving the Mansion.

He pursed his lips. He'll be drinking a whole well for today once he reaches the kitchen.

He looked at his right hand, still armored and locked around the wand, the glow now a dim light compared to when he was inside the Court, tracking down the owner of the vessel alongside the others, he willed his spirit to fill into the prosthetic, the bones inside the gauntlet clicking before finally uncurled its clawed fingers—

They curled once again, and his body propelled itself against the wall to evade a vicious blade of wind coming for him. The wall and a crystal lamp took his place, a long laceration on the cement and the cleanly bisected lamp shattering on the floors.

"So you decided to wake up now?" A cold murderous voice asked from the hallway.

Green eyes became green hellfire in his sockets, his wand following the same notion as he faced the one who threw that attack. Emurdol knew two people who can manipulate wind, Viandegroc already found out who did it by the mana signature in the air. He knew this would be an attack to prevent him from carrying out the execution he promised if he ever bypasses the borders of the witchbeast forest but he did not expect the kind of look Ram's eyes had. They were wet….she's in _grief_, as if there was a loss she suffered. Something…_invaluable._

"**What happened?**" He demanded, moving away from the wall and keeping himself ready for another dodge.

"You _don't_ know?" Ram snapped harshly, a strong emphasis put in the word.

Viandegroc kept staring, fixing the fiery glare of green on her petite form brewing with wind mana. "**Been sleeping, finding Brother's Soul lost in darkness.**"

Pink eyes narrowed at his answer, her fists tightening even further. She saw blood leak right through the gaps of her fingers. "And did you find him?"

He steadied the grip on his wand. "**Easy said than done to bring him back. He grieves. He despairs. The wound is fresh. The damages your little sister has done will not go awa—**"

"REM IS DEAD!" Everywhere around her, nothing but lacerated cement and bisected furniture, from paintings and wallpaper to chandeliers and doors. Her outburst created an eruption, and it shook the floor so much that he could feel it from his skeletal feet. The others will surely be awakened from this.

His aura of hostility was snuffed out like a candle as soon as the information was finally absorbed into his brain. His wide eyes lost their fiery light, his wand did the same, and his mouth gaped at what he heard.

_The girl is _dead_? How?_

"Did….did you do it? Was it you…?" Ram's strong, composed and haughty voice was nowhere to be seen anymore. It cracked, sobbed, and she's doing everything she can to let out the words, still devastated by the loss of her dearly beloved sister. "Did you….take Rem from me?"

It clicked. It immediately clicked. It dawned to him _why _the girl died.

The conclusion was actually obvious. If it cannot be him, then there is only one.

It was _Mama_.

Brother was merciful compared to her; he would spare if he can help it, holding firmly to the Order's principle that taking the life of another human being is the last resort for it holds no merit to your pursuit for knowledge and wisdom. Mama may have been once a Priest of the Serpent, one of the strongest in her generation and a firm upholder to their culture and conduct, but she's dead. Principles or any code of ethics don't mean anything to her now. If she discovers a potential killer out for her son's head, she won't settle for just one person. She'll include the target's friends, connections, family. Young, old, not even an infant is free from her wrath. If someone dares to take away her only family, she will return the courtesy preemptively.

Emurdol does not always agree with her actions. They carry consequences, what comeuppance she deserved sometimes ended up happening to him. And he absolutely abhors the murdering of innocents. He holds her reins, and to keep the lives of people who hated him safe from his Mother's sickles, he must ground out the order that she will not kill anyone without his permission.

But in a position where her son isn't here to stop her, Mama has all the freedom to do as she wished.

And _this _was the result.

"Was it you?"

He shook.

His teeth gritted.

His breathing was sharp, shuddering.

"Answer Ram."

_Mama…..how could you….?_

"_Did you kill Rem_?"

He lowered his head, his white hair draping over his distressed features.

He began to retreat, his legs taking one step back. After a dozen seconds, he took another.

He began to sweat. He began to weep. He began to salivate.

Ram looked at his movements tearfully, her tears beginning to worsen and the red haze flowing over her vision. His erratic reactions were all the answers she needed, "….how could you….?"

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

He's _bleeding_, and it was not from any external sources, including Ram's wind blades. She hasn't even thrown the second shot.

"….why….?"

He refuse to answer. He cannot answer. What could he say that could dissuade her from killing him either way?

He _failed_. He failed Brother. He failed _himself_. Viandegroc had all the power to persuade Mama from getting out of line, the second person that she would ever trust and _listen _to in the Living World, and he _failed. _He should have known. He should have seen it coming. He should have woken up sooner, delay seeking Brother's soul later and have the residents prepare for it. But he _didn't_.

He _doomed _Brother's future.

"Ram knows she's responsible…..Ram knows she did this to you…..Ram knows it's all her fault…." Her voice cracked at first, then it began to harden, freezing solid as her anger coated her words with every fiber of her hatred. The next volley of her words indicated her breaking point, "But Rem was remorseful! She regretted what she's done! She repented! She wept! She lamented over your sacrifices! She despaired when you came back bloody and unconscious! She stands by your door everyday hoping you'll wake up even though you'd kill her by then!"

She's even forgetting that he's not the boy that Rem was waiting for. He is just a substitute of the vessel's owner, here to mobilize his flesh and carry out tasks in his stead. He has no place in anyone's heart. What power does he even have to answer her words?

"….she's willing to pay the price…and heartlessly, you took away Rem's life as your fee…." The magic around her began to intensify, and a lethal twister began swirling around her, creating lacerations on everything near her, "….you…are…_evil_, Ser…Rem was all Ram had, ever since the Witch Cult came and took away our parents, our homes…..Rem's the only family Ram has…Ram cannot live without Rem… Ram would willingly threw away her life for Rem if she must…..and you took her away from me…"

His eyes wept blood. His ears bled. His nose released blood. His saliva became red. His pores secreted blood. His robes were beginning to redden, soaking in the lifeblood escaping him for the crime he's done, as if her words were like knives of cold steel, handing him the punishment he deserved.

Though Emurdol knew no fear, he is still a human. Viandegroc never saw him fearing anything ever again when he earned his eyes back, but after living through the lifetime he lived inside the wand, he knew what he feared the most in his heart aside from being immortal:

Emurdol feared being labeled as irredeemably, unambiguously, and unarguably **Evil**. Priests of the Serpent are above temptation. That's why they have never been corrupted. When all other organizations have members that fell from grace due to their greed and vanity, those of the Order knew_ better_. He diligently upheld every principle he knew to be worthy of the title as the Ideal Necromagus. Pettiness is beneath him. For every life he took, it was for the good of all things. He killed Scum that terrorized the land. He executed the irredeemable when others hesitate because of their stupid morals. He took the lives of those beyond any help. The things he's done that were questionable by the standards of the Above-World, it was all for the sake of _good_. He'd be damned if it were otherwise.

And Viandegroc sent it all to ruin. He caused a sin to fall on Brother's shoulders. No matter how heinous a crime was done against him, he would _never _separate someone from their family unless they truly deserved to die, irredeemable and unworthy of the bond between their flesh and blood. Rem _does not deserve to die_. He saw it for himself. She truly regretted her sins, Ram seconded it.

But Mama killed her. She sent her son to hell, and Viandegroc let it _happen_.

Ram will not trust him anymore. This mansion will not trust him anymore. The village will do the same once they hear of this, especially Emilia. He's now a legitimate threat to this land.

He sharply twisted around for an escape—

Ram's wind blade came flying towards him—

_**THE DARKNESS HERALDS NOTHINGNESS, AND NOTHINGNESS HERALDS THE SHADE.**_

_**OH COME THE SHADE AND SEND THIS WORLD ASUNDER.**_

_**IN DESPAIR INCITE ALTERATION. IN ANGER HAIL DESTRUCTION. IN JOY DELIVER CREATION.**_

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The first to come was darkness. Pure darkness that transcended all creation. The bright morning was forced back into the dark of night, a devouring evening that left nothing for all who are awake to see. Lamps and candles were rendered puny, eaten away by the terrifying blackness as if it were alive and hungered for all things that give light.

The second was the screaming. The voice of the elderly, the young, the woman, the man, the infant, the child, the adult. They wailed in pain and relief, despair and joy, outrage and happiness. The screams of the Dead filled the darkness, taking away every sound in creation to make way for the choral of unrest.

And the third to conclude the prologue was the trembling. The ground shook. The walls shook. The roofs shook. The air shook. The human body shook. The organs shook. _Everything _shook. Everything in existence became one in being and trembled together like a rattle.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

And then everything was whole again.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The Reaper and the Bowel Hunter froze, subjected to the darkness that overpowered what the cave already provided, the amalgamation of screams that muffled the sound of steel clashing against each other and the rattling. Even though it felt like it went on for a whole minute, the strange sensation on their bones left them thinking it only happened for a second. Even Mother, who is fleshless, felt it.

It was enough to put their entire conflict into a ceasefire. Elsa stopped for it being strange. Mother stopped because it was the signal of a catastrophe about to happen.

And that catastrophe happened in the form of an earthquake. The cavern shook and the ribcage scaffolding cracked immediately. Chunks of dirt and debris began to fall from the ceiling, _fissures _were immediately forming on the dirt ground, opening the pit to the center of the earth. There was the rumble behind the mass of dirt above their heads and what it was arrived to their location 3 seconds later, a _thunderclap_.

"Was that thunder?"

Mother immediately disappeared and ran to the exit, not intending to be buried alive in a confined space where mana is completely scarce.

The Bowel Hunter immediately took action, scooping up Meili's broken form in her arms, earning pained cries as if moving alone was excruciating agony for the little girl but she ignored it and bolted after the speeding form of the cloaked skeleton without any time wasted, her speeds matching to outpace the wind itself. She will not allow it the chance to clog the exit point and bury them both here once it gets out first.

Finding easy footing on the dirt ground despite the shaking earth, she was able to see the escaping skeleton as soon as she reached the straight path of the artificial cave that led to the exit, light-eating cloak fluttering behind it as its metal boots kicked up dirt as if it were water. Elsa readied her throwing knives in one hand, dodging any debris or shattering piece of enlarged bone about to come down on her, she flicked her weapons towards its back, only for all 8 lethal projectiles to be swatted aside with a single swing of its right sickle, its entire arm's joints bent impossibly in the process.

Frustration formed on her brow. She's already been killed three times now; mutilated, cut to pieces and bisected in half. Any effort against her opponent were rendered inefficient due to the impregnable defenses provided by 4 blade-wielding hands moving as if each one had a mind of its own. Direct attacks were replied with vicious slices of the sickles. Sneak attacks were thwarted by krises quick to deflect them before a counterattack. Brute force tactics were easily outdone by the skeleton's superior physical prowess. Finesse is rendered useless against something prone to changing the tune of its movements whenever it liked, rhyme or reason lasting for only 4 seconds before breaking.

The pillar of light coming from the exit was in sight, the sounds of a _typhoon _roaring from it as well as an endless cascade of mud, branches and fallen leaves overflowing to flood the cave, and the skeleton sped up even further towards it, Elsa coming close behind it in a competition to be the first to escape. She could hear the cave behind her falling apart, caving in and returning everything to its proper design as dense ground.

As soon as the skeleton was directly beneath the cascade of dirty water and driftwood, it shot like a bullet straight upwards, the overflow cutting off for an instant due to her presence in the way. Elsa made sure she took advantage of it, holding Meili close to herself in the tightest death grip she could manage, provoking even more screams of pain that threatened to overpower the sound of the storm, and jumped vertically through the tunnel of mud, piercing through the heavy mud and breaching out to the surface world in a frustrated cry.

And she met the fury of 3 tornadoes that's barely several hundred meters away, barely aware of the sickles coming to scissor her head from behind as soon as she landed back to the ground.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

A nearby tornado took away millions of roof fragments, destroying the garden adorning the yard of the Roswaal Manor with its strong presence. The giant fissure that opened from the bottom right of the property's boundaries stretched diagonally to the other side, splitting the mansion caught in the center in half, revealed a ravine to the unknown. The thunderstorm sent a merciless fury down on everything beneath it, from the witchbeast forest to the nearby villages. Every raindrop stung every skin it touched, every flash of lightning is accompanied by a lightning strike to the earth, and every tree is toppled by the monstrous winds that threatened to send anyone who is outside of a confined space flying.

Yet the two people stood at opposite edges of the split mansion at the first floor hallway were barely touched by the elements.

Ram was protected by her barrier of wind magic, a twister shield repelling whatever harm every catastrophe nearby brought from touching her. Her composure was locked, frozen in a cold glare, barely fazed by the happenings that could have been compared to godlike power. The tears continued to flow from her scarlet orbs, the pain of her loss furthering her hate towards the murderer.

The murderer was never the same when the wind blade opened the flesh on his back, tearing him from left waist to right shoulder. It did not bisect him completely, however. It made a crack on the surface of a certain enclosure, and the strong demand for the inhabitant's release made the hard walls brittle.

When weakness was seen, the Shade took advantage of it and broke out into the Living World.

When the screaming darkness that shook the world disappeared, the Horror took Viandegroc's place.

Mop-like hair floated as if it were underwater, crowning the large head that contained void-like eyes, a loose jaw threatening to come off lined with sharp teeth and containing a long red tongue, red saliva leaking to the floors without trouble despite the violent winds. Its long neck connected to an emaciated chest, ribcage showing through the dead-pale skin and everything else below the sunken abdomen was only a dark wispy cloud. It kept itself from flopping to the ground with its arms as long as a grown man's leg firmly planted to the floors, the spider-like fingers ending in black claws punctured into the floor like a hot knife through butter.

Ram had seen this monstrosity in an illusion back at the gazebo days ago, but seeing it for the second time, she did not have the inclination to believe that he's pulling the same stunt the second time.

All this were all real, from the catastrophe around them…..to the death of her little sister. If it all had been otherwise, she would gladly accept it with open arms. By then, she'd go back to Rem's room and see her just in time to witness her yawning cutely and rubbing her eyes.

"_**FULA**_**!**"

There is no assurance that such a thing is could ever happen. There is no indication here that all this had to be some kind of sick joke. It's all actually happening. And there is nothing changing it.

The result of her attack was not the same. Instead of cutting his lanky chest open, he _swatted it aside_ as if it were a crumpled ball of paper, redirecting its trajectory to the wall and sending the chopped pieces down the ravine below along with the flooding waters flowing from the yard.

"You dare not accept your fate, murderer?" The grief in her voice was gone. Her heart's now encased in ice, unfeeling and single-minded towards her vengeance.

The ground he punctured with his claws cracked even further, the want to clench his fist showing through but strongly held it down with a heavy heart. His head lowered down, the brow above his black eyes furrowed deep in grief and guilt.

"_Weeeeeell_, isn't this an interesting development?"

A thunderclap resonated in sync to his surprise at the sudden arrival of a familiar drawl. Though physical barriers partially don't impede him anymore, the voice would have managed to break through the roaring winds, violent rains and into his normal human ears anyway.

Not needing to look up to see, there was the master of the manor, afloat in the air with each of his hands carrying quadruple orbs of red, green, blue and yellow as he glared at the pale monstrosity. He, too, was shielded by a similar but stronger wind barrier, barely touched by the catastrophes happening everywhere around him, emphasized by his large cloak's and hair's lack of wild swishing.

"I've been making my regular rounds around the halls and _Iiiiii _come to hear the cries of despair and grief before suddenly, the _eeeeeeend_ of the world has begun." His clownish face expressed nothing, his usual whimsical smiles and amused gleams completely nonexistent, emotionless as the elder sister standing on the edge across the Horror, but the cold fury hidden deep within his mismatched eyes was impossible to miss. "But it _seeeeeems_ you are responsible for this, Ser _Eeeeeemurdol….._"

"Lord Roswaal, please do not interfere." Ram demanded without looking away from him. "This thing will earn Ram's wrath and Ram alone."

"Oooooh." Roswaal's delicate eyebrow rose up in mock wonder, "Since when did _yooooou_ ever grew the audacity to _commaaaaaaand_ your master?"

"He murdered my sister."

"And Iiiii have been angered by the death of my _deeeeaaar_ retainer…."

Shaking his head mournfully, the Shade raised its claws up to the air, and suddenly the tornado nearby sucked up boulders from the fractured earth and flung them towards the trio's general location. Ram immediately threw another blade of wind at him while Roswaal easily decimated the incoming rocks with his balls of great magic. With a downward slash of the black claws at the end of his fingers, he sent back a shockwave that matched an explosion and dispersed her attack, making her form slide backwards despite the barrier around her.

"Hm!" Roswaal flicked his wrist, taking advantage of the Horror's distraction.

And a giant plate of the hallway floor beneath the Shade flipped at a 90 degree angle, slamming against his bony back and sending him off the edge, falling down into the flooding abyss.

"_Al Dona_!"

Roswaal wasn't satisfied with just water. He sent down a flood of earth as well, surging from all directions except the half of the hallway Ram occupied in. From trees to concrete, they cascaded down the ravine, intending to bury him down there with them. With a clawing gesture of his gloved hands, aiming towards each separate half of the split earth, he put his hands together in clasped fingers.

With a powerful quake, the ravine _closed _with a resounding rumble, crushing the Shade inside and burying him there. The magically-influenced movement of the earth caused both halves of the mansion to crumble and crack, some of the cement cracking off and falling to the flooding earth as well as causing a minor tsunami.

Suddenly, the waters began gathering to a singularity at the mansion yards. Everything from rain to flood conglomerated there, swirling together like a whirlpool on ground soil. It reached the point where the thunderstorm's rains practically _stopped_, the entire world sucked _dry _as every single drop was pulled to the single point, and the whirlpool rose high. Higher and higher.

The progressing concentration of power eventually brought the creation of the _Waterspout._

"My, _myyyyy_….." Roswaal's intrigue was genuine as he eyed the rarely-ever-seen catastrophe began to intensify further when it already had. "Face the Sword Saint….and you might last _looooonger _than a whole ten minutes!"

With a sword-like swing of his entire left arm vertically upwards, a gigantic wind blade flies towards the assaulting water twister and destroyed its perpetual momentum, splitting the spinning water pillar into a giant cascade falling from the heavens.

The entire section of the ground found at the right side of the mansion where the Archmage happened to be floating above of erupted like a volcano that carried pent-up pressure for so long, sending dirt, mud, stone, tree and root into the air. Soon, there was a rain of earth as well when the raindrops of the super typhoon returned with a furious vengeance.

"Lord Roswaal!" Ram's eyes went wide when the noble was lost in the eruption of earth, barely hearing herself from the roar of the storm, holding her hand up to shield her face from the elements when her barrier could no longer be held up by her very limited mana.

And she thought fast when she felt the shift of mana in the air, quickly diving into the shaking and flooding hallway to take cover from the explosion of earth and water, courtesy of Roswaal whose wind barrier is the most durable and long-lasting compared to hers, leaving him perfectly unscathed in the aftermath before he chanted a widespread blast of wind from his body to disperse the eruption around him, and the _clouds_. The nearby twisters went away with it as well.

As quick as it was sent away, it came roaring back with an apparent stubbornness in its vibe, intent on delivering hell to the Mathers Domain. The winds began to pick up, whirling violently, the small drizzles quickly became a full deluge, and the rumble of a thunder almost sounded like snickering, as if ridiculing his attempt at fighting back. It's almost as if the catastrophes themselves were alive.

Considering who he was up against and how it was a ridiculously sunny and clear sky when he looked out the window, that would not be a stretch of an assumption.

"Stopping the apocalypse is not a walk in the park, it seems." The Lord commented grimly, readying the element of fire on his hands. Then he heard the ground shatter behind him, accompanied by the sound of struggling. The sound barely managed to reach his ears through the rising storm. "Tenacious man, you are, aren't you, Ser Emurdol?" He asked rhetorically, his form rotating around in a slow revolution. He looked down on the Horror clawing out of a newly-created fissure that stretched only a few meters on the soil, the growing puddles flowing towards the new opening.

With only its wispy tail of black smoke still within the hole, the Shade's pale and bony upper body strangely unmarred by dirt and injuries, he shot a vicious dark-eyed glare towards Roswaal. Despite being exposed in the open, the violent weather didn't seem to faze him or his floating hair for even a little. The rumbling in the black clouds began creating thunderclaps and flashes of bright light, indicating the high possibility of something closest to the sky getting hit by lightning. Specifically, _himself_.

The Lord quickly took the hint and slowly lowered to the ground, keeping the wind barrier intact and the contained conflagrations in his hands.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, white came in his vision as well as a surge of heat from beside him for the briefest instant, an accompanying explosion deafening Roswaal's ears. For taking his attention away from his enemy for the briefest of moments due to a lightning strike happening just right beside him, the Shade was already at his face, giant mouth agape to bite his entire upper body off.

Roswaal's foot shot straight towards the collarbone showing through the white skin like an arrow. The bone didn't snap apart despite the power behind it to snap 4 trees in half, it was enough to knock the Horror back and that gave him enough time to fly back upwards and threw the contained flames in his hands.

"_GOA_!" The Archmage of the Kingdom of Lugunica emulated the Holy Dragon's fire, a powerful stream of flames escaping out of his hands like a flood of pure red, yellow and orange. The sea of flames fought against the deluge, loud hissing and steam emitting from even the slightest contact. The destruction swept everything in front of him like an incinerating tsunami, controlling its direction from ever touching the mansion. Water boiled. The air became hot. The dark clouds' flashing and rumbling of thunder and lightning became even more erratic. The number of twisters present escalated from 3 to _14\. _The strengthening winds made the mansion tilt sideways. The shaking ground reached catastrophic magnitudes, destroying the luckily unoccupied half of the split building.

Then came darkness.

Darkness not from the release of the Shade into the Living World, but from the release of the Shade's wrath in the form of a steadily-rising wall of water just barely a distance away from the back of the mansion. The Horror was there by the foot of the aquatic wall, its lanky arms raised up high and screaming a monstrous cacophony of voices. The Lord immediately guessed what the Shade intended. It was not to extinguish the sea of flames, it was to destroy the _entire_ Mathers domain.

And Roswaal L. Mathers _smiled._

His hands brewing greatly with the magic of earth and fire, the former to manipulate the very soil and divert the cascade to another direction while the former to freeze it at the right moment, he taunted the Shade with open arms. There was no longer any caution in his every expression. He was completely open to the inevitable.

The Lord was _ecstatic_, "YES! Lay unto me all your fury, O Great and Powerful Necromancer! Emurdol Viandegroc! Show it to me! Show me if you got what it takes to overpower the Court Mage of the Kingdom of Lugunica! Show that you can equal my _**MIGHT**_!"

The Shade's screams resounded all over. Overpowering the storm. Overpowering Roswaal's cry. Overpowering the thunderclaps. Overpowering _everything_. His wispy tail now became a dark shroud, covering a large entirety of the ground in a half-circle beneath him, devouring the sea of flames as they tried to consume him in their indiscriminate onslaught.

**"That Is Enough!"**

And then came the blistering cold of a white winter.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The wall of water was frozen solid. The dark skies became still and silent, sending down a soft hail. The entire ground was coated in a thick layer of snow. The mansion's tilting architecture was stilled in an icy encasement, the interior perfectly intact with its occupants. The catastrophes of the outlying areas have been silenced too, the tornadoes and the earth-shattering earthquake gone and still.

Roswaal and the Shade stood in gaping shock of the Great Spirit's presence in-between them, crossing his little arms while a predatory scowl adorned his usually cute face. His tail swished in a slow and ominous fashion, his entire form shrouded with all the stolen mana in the vicinity, including the Lord's.

**"You Both Will Cease And Stand Down." **He told them in a reverberating and powerful voice, his voice as chilly as the current condition of the environment around them. **"You Two Sure Like To Cause A Lot Of Noise And Trouble When Under A Lot Of Stress, Especially You, Viandegroc. Suddenly Warping Every Lick Of Mana In The World To Yourself And Causing These Disasters To Happen All At Once, It's As If You Wanted To Destroy The World By Blocking Off Od Lugna From Existence In A Fit Of A Tantrum."**

The Shade didn't dare reply as he kept his dark gaze on the angered Spirit, unclenching his closed hands ending in claws and gently laying them down on the snow-covered ground, strangely not sinking into the 4 meter depth despite his enlarged form.

**"If It Wasn't For My Daughter's Pleas To Not Be Rough On The Two Of You While I Make You Stop, You Two Would Have Been Nothing But Icicles. That Includes You, Viandegroc. I'd Like To See You Try And Counter My Magic With The Monstrosity You've Become."**

He was not afraid to challenge the Spirit through his mind by daring him to test the power of the Order of the Serpent's Ultimate Art if he's so inclined to say something like that, never moving a muscle as he did.

Puck narrowed his eyes but did not mention about the Shade's audacity. **"While You Two Have Been Messing Up The Entire Mansion With Your Scuffle, I'd Like To Tell You The Good News The Elder Sister's Been Trying To Tell You Both After Asking What Betty Diagnosed From The Little Sister."**

The Shade's swaying hair froze, as if time had stopped. The word 'good news' was enough to draw him to full cooperation and he activated his many senses to hear whatever it is, not intending to miss a single syllable that ever came out of Puck's maw.

Sensing his compliance, the Spirit finally conveyed the news, **"The Little Sister Is Still **_**Alive**_**."**

If the Shade's mouth haven't been hanging since his arrival, it would have definitely fallen off his skull and landed on the snow, sinking to the bottom in utter disbelief. Despite the Shade's efforts of perceiving what was said, receiving the information with every senses he has that no other being in the Living World could have all at once, he still refused to believe it.

Puck read his doubt and clarified, **"She Was Poisoned, But Her Organs Refused To Die Out Completely, Especially Her Heart And Mind. Her Breathing Moved Like A Snail And Her Heart Pulsed Every Few Minutes. The Same Condition You Had When You Were In Comatose. However, Betty Said That It's Not Likely To Last."**

The Shade's mind ran at the speed of light.

Death by poison. Mother does not carry poison. She must have used something else. She won't use environmental substances, stock methods seen as beneath her despite her being as an Unresting Soul. Symptoms indicated that it can only be traced to the kind of toxin Emurdol had in his blood. How she managed to get a sample of it despite Emurdol never giving her any, he can't be sure.

But this was a turning point. This was a ray of hope that was luckily present in Mother's method of assassination.

The girl can be _saved_.

**"If You Have A Way To Save The Girl, Then You Better Get Going. The Elder Sister's Expecting It. **_**Lia's**_** Expecting It. Looking Through Your Mind….It Seems You **_**Do **_**Have A Way, Don't You….Viandegroc? But What's The Point Of That Now? How Can You Fix The Damages When You Already Fractured This World To Pieces?"**

…..

…..…..…..

…..…..…..…..…..

Several moments of Puck and the Shade staring at each other past, unreadable gaze meeting unreadable gaze, seeming to last for several minutes as they held themselves like that but realistically 23 seconds, the latter finally uttered words in his monstrous form, the eldritch voice speaking in the most hopeful tone it ever carried.

**"If I clean up after myself, then nothing can stop me from doing what I must."**

With a purpose, the Horror raised its claws up to the air.

As sudden as his movements were when he had been as still as a corpse since the Spirit began speaking to him, the effects were equally immediate.

The world was rendered to nothing but _Pure Darkness_.

**FROM THE NOTHINGNESS CAME THE SHADE, AND THE SHADE RETURNS TO IT.**

**WITH THE PRICE OF MY LIFE, UNDO WHAT HAS BEEN DONE.**

**REGRET BE REALIZED. JOY BE HAD. HATRED BE QUELLED.**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

And then everything was whole again.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Viandegroc stood stiffly in the hallway, holding his wand in a tight grip inside his clawed gauntlets as he faced Ram. The latter stood there, the barrier that was circled around her form disappearing instantaneously. Her face contained complete and utter shock, crimson eyes questioning at just what the hell happened. The mansion should have been encased in ice, split in half and one brick away from demolishing itself completely due to the multiple catastrophes attacking the Mathers domain. She was supposed to be at Rem's bedside, holding her hand and tenderly whispering her words of encouragement to hang on while the Great Spirit went to convey the wonderful news to the people fighting outside.

And now, she was swept away with a gigantic wave of déjà vu as she stood there, wondering why was she feeling despair and fury for a moment before it disappeared like a forgotten dream.

They were at the point before the Priest had turned his back on the maid and feigned an attempt to escape, just so she could get provoked into attacking him with a spell and complete the release of the Shade by breaking his flesh.

Instead of the proceedings repeating itself, a deviation occurred. Viandegroc collapsed on his skeletal knees and vomited an entire liter of blood to the floors, easily melting the carpet and the stone. Instead of being colored red, his lifeblood was nearing tinges of black, as if it had died and dried up inside him. His skin became even paler, pale enough that his muscles could almost be seen right through it. He's visibly thinning at a rapid rate too, his robes starting to look too big for his lanky form, his bones becoming even more apparent through his skin, as if he was deprived of food for more than a _month._

Ram finally broke out of her confusion when he began deteriorating in front of her and turned tail, sprinting back to where she came from, hurrying to her _still-alive _little sister. Along the way, she ran past Emilia who was running at a hurried pace to the opposite direction.

Eventually, after a few flights of stairs, she reached Emurdol, who was still heaving and coughing pools of black blood on the floors beneath him. She would have been glad and happy for his waking up but his extremely withered state brought her only horror.

"Oh no! Emurdol, are you alright!?" She hurried, kneeling beside him as she held his elbow and rubbed his back vigorously, the glow of healing magic making its work on his unknown condition.

Puck floated just in front of his bowed head, his little paw holding his chin in exaggerated examination, "Well, looks like all that godlike power has a price, doesn't it?"

_[Don't fucking remind me, Fay!]_

Despite the derisive reply snapped back at him, the Spirit's eyes went wide as he focused on _who _was speaking to him. His feline lips extended to a glad smirk, "Well, looks like you decided to come back after all."

"What are you talking about, Puck?" Emilia asked in distress, not pointing her eyes away from the Priest. "Don't just float there, help me!"

**"**_**NO**_**!"**

"HEEP!" Emilia was the only one who yelped from the horrifying voice that roared inside her head, her eyes panning in all directions to find who that was.

Hacking his mouth, he spat out a large hunk of blood to the floors once more before he pointed his blood-shot eyes towards the direction of the servant quarters, fighting to keep himself from collapsing to the floors.

**"Don't you dare waste your magic on me!" **He shook off the pale hand that was holding his bicep, his skeletal feet easily rising up due to having no muscles on them suffering any damages but his upper body failed to keep up. Even the lightest of movements felt like he's rustling needles inside his body. "KKKhhkk!" He choked through gritted teeth, the blood spilling from his nose and lips. **"Rem! I must save the Little Sister!"**

"But you're—"

**"I DON'T CARE!"** The scream would have deafened Emilia if it came from an external source instead of coming from her head, even though it felt like her ears rang from his outburst. **"She's the first priority, not me!" **He created choking sounds in every little movement as he struggled to make his body keep up with the steady walks of his skeletal feet, trying to keep it steady and not tilt his center of balance. Emilia stayed by his side, holding him up as he practically jogged towards the stairs. **"We must hurry! I can't run like this!"**

"Okay! Hold on!" Emilia told grimly before she wrapped her hands around his waist and easily lifted him up from the ground, running at a surprisingly speedy pace towards the stairs, taking two steps at a time to be quick. If the situation wasn't so precarious, he would have been baffled at how Emilia's tiny little arms could actually carry him even with his withering state.

It took more than a minute before an open door was in sight at the end of the hallway. Emilia barely broke a sweat and her voice was still even when she entered in, the Priest under her grasp with Puck behind her. "I got him over!"

"Oooh." Roswaal quirked an eyebrow at their arrival.

"You!" Ram turned a hard glare on him.

**"Just get me over there!" **The eldritch voice was heard by everyone in the room. Spitting out another hunk of blood to the floors, he turned his bloodshot eyes to the poisoned woman at the bed, seeming to have passed on to the afterlife by the looks of it but everyone in the room knew that was not the case yet. **"I can save her! Let me attend to her now!"**

"Okay!" Emilia quickly brought him over, only to be impeded by Ram.

"Wait!" She only got shoved aside and hitting her back against the wall when the Priest was able to reach her with his armored hand that still managed to hold on to the wand despite his condition, sending her a sensation of her bones being twisted before it stopped.

"You took your time to be here, I suppose." The other Spirit, Beatrice remarked grouchily, her hands glowing as they aimed towards Rem's kidney and chest area, "Don't make Betty clean up after you, in fact!"

**"You're not exempted from this fucking mess!" **He screamed before Emilia set him down to kneel before the bedside, his free hand laying on the little sister's abdomen, **"You're **_**helping **_**me! No questions asked! Now move your hands!"**

"Ow, in fact!" Beatrice yelped and held her hands, stinging from his slap. "You don't have to hit—"

**"SHUT UP!" **Angry green eyes burned hellfire as the Priest glared at the Spirit's annoying attitude, silencing her immediately, **"You're disrupting my focus!"**

Keeping his waist above the level of the bed with the assist of his right hand and Emilia who kept him steady, he sent out a wave of mana to course over Rem's body starting from Rem's belly. What he found made him sneer once more, the sharp teeth showing from his raised hackles.

It _was_ his blood that's making these symptoms occur, slow breathing and heartbeat as well as failing organs. His suspicions were immediately clear. Mother has taken the toxins straight from the girl he bit that night. He would have noticed if she took it from his body otherwise. The fact that she very likely took the child _prisoner_, as Mother is not one to touch innocents, proved another suspicion. The little girl _was _the one who orchestrated that mess with the witchbeasts. Even with his toxins flowing through that little one's veins, Mother would not dare lay a claw on her so long as she's _innocent_.

"Well? What do you see, I wonder?" Beatrice asked, crossing her little arms on her chest.

**"It was Mother." **He exposed grimly, his green eyes hardening. **"She did this. She took revenge when I wasn't able to control her."**

"Ooooooh…." Roswaal's eyes widened in realization, a mirthless smile crossing his lips as he held his chin. "….so _thiiiis_ was the consequence she warned me about…."

"Bad timing though." Puck added, "She struck _before _Emurdol woke up. She only gave us a three-day deadline."

"Which could _oooonly_ mean she struck at midnight."

"All that doesn't matter!" The elder sister screamed, turning her eyes from Roswaal and the Spirit to the Priest. "Can you save her!? Can you still save Rem!?"

**"Yes I can." **He told honestly, rising up to his feet and fought against the pain of his upper body's movements. Turning to the people behind him, he spoke in a commanding tone, **"This will require every single person in this room's cooperation. You want her to live? You listen, without question."**

Ram no longer had any patience nor pride to speak of anymore, concerned only with saving her sister's life. "Ram will! Just say it! What do we have to do!?"

He turned to her, **"Medicinal herbs. Anything that can heal wounds or replenish mana. Bring it over."**

"Right." She quickly ran out the door and headed to the cabinets.

He turned to Roswaal and Puck, **"You two. Act as dispensers of mana. The others as well as I will be needing it more than you."**

"No _objeeeections_."

"Will do."

He turned to Emilia, **"Emilia. Take off her clothes. All of it. Quickly."**

"Okay."

He turned to Beatrice, **"You shall—"**

"Heal the Little Sister's heart and kidneys, I wonder?"

He nodded. He moved to assist in undressing the girl. Instead of trying to have it unworn like Emilia was trying to do, he _ripped _the nightdress to shreds to save time as he exposed the petite but attractive pale figure hidden beneath. What negated the enticing sight were the black veins marring her pale skin, especially near and around her extremities. She wore no undergarments, and that made everything look _sickening._

Roswaal chuckled. "Out of _coooontext_, this would have looked _criiiiminal_."

"Yeah. Good thing the Elder Sister ain't here to see this."

Sneering over their comments, he brought his wand over and hovered it above Rem's bare chest. Before he continues, he turned to Beatrice and Emilia. **"Beatrice, try to stabilize the heart. Emilia, heal the kidneys."**

"Fine, in fact." Grumpily, she agreed. "But I don't think this Little Girl here would know how to repair internal organs."

"Ye-yes. I don't think my level of skill is enough for that."

"Don't worry, Lia." Puck floated over her shoulder, always willing to lend a hand to his daughter. "I'll guide you through."

**"Good." **The Priest pursed his lips, his wand glowing green. **"I'm going to force her heart to pulse, and I want you to keep it from shutting down and rotting from the toxins."**

"How will you keep the toxins from going to her head, I wonder?"

**"I don't have to. But I'm going to control the potency of that poison. It's going to make her flail or convulse so watch out for her limbs." **He turned to Emilia while Beatrice readied her hands. **"Emilia. Make sure the kidneys stay intact. It's going to destroy itself while it's cleaning the blood on her system so make sure that doesn't happen."**

"Yessir."  
"Yessir."

The pair saluted comically.

**"Ready now."** He hovered his glowing wand in a spiral going inwards before heading back outwards and repeating the process. The poisonous blood is now circulated, filtering it away from Rem's own blood. **"Begin on my mark." **The healers readied their hands on their respective places, glowing in blue healing mana. **"Now."**

"Hm!"  
"Ha!"

A pulse came from the heart, sending clean and unclean blood into the body. The Priest carefully filtered the toxins in one of the heart's chambers. Eyes glowing bright green, he carefully vacuumed the foreign elements that were tainting her other organs without trying to shut them down and put them to the heart.

Another pulse, a fresh batch of blood. He kept the toxins back while the batch continued their course throughout her body, supplying blood to her other essential organs and taking the toxins along with them, magic directing their course to the healed kidneys.

**"Roswaal. Open a cut on her wrist." **He ordered to the Lord watching the proceedings behind him.

"_Excuuuse_ me." Carefully taking the naked girl's hand, he traced his index finger across the wrist, the help of wind magic easily opening the flesh but no blood leaked out, much to Roswaal's bafflement. "She doesn't bleed."

**"A vessel. I need a vessel. A container. Quickly."**

"Oh _deeaar_, wherever can I _fiiiind_ one?"

"Ram brought some!" The elder Sister exclaimed from the doorway, a basin full of jarred herbs in her hand. She turned her eyes to her little sister and gasped in shock of the numerous black veins visible on the delicate flesh. "Rem!"

**"Bring one here. Now!"**

Ram regained her composure and hurried over, setting down the basin of herbs to the floor carefully before she passed an empty bowl to his outstretched hand. Placing it to the floor beneath Rem's hand that had a cut on its wrist hanging from the bed, his spiraling wand changed its course, tracing a line over to her waist before waving it towards the arm.

The black veins followed after his hand, down on the bicep, to the forearm and out the slit cut, the black liquid dripping to the bowl. Ram pursed her lips at the thought of such substances running all over her sister's body.

**"That's even less than 1% of everything." **There was a grudging tone lining the eldritch voice, cursing the meager progress he's making despite the assistance of two healers. **"Ram. Go to the kitchen and prepare a feast. Everything in the pantry, ready it to the room next to this."**

The elder sister frowned quickly for such strange demands that does not seem to correlate to the situation. _"Why?"_

**"Because I need to eat." **He answered, moving to repeat the extraction.

Ram sputtered heatedly, "W-why would you eat at a moment like this!?"

**"I'm hungry, thirsty, and exhausted! I need them!"**

"You think _you're_ the one who needs the most assistance!? Look at Rem! She's a priority more valuable than your sto—"

A sharp snap erupted in the room, and Ram recoiled from the second blow to her cheek, red and stinging from the Priest's backhand. He stood tall with a blinding green eyed glare, looming over the small maid as his raised hackles exposed sharp gritting teeth.

**"I LOST 65 FUCKING YEARS OF MY LIFESPAN JUST TO PUT EVERYTHING I'VE DESTROYED BACK TOGETHER! MY IMMUNE SYSTEM IS DYING! MY HEALTH IS DETERIORATING! AND I COULD BARELY THINK STRAIGHT! IF I DON'T EAT, I CANNOT FUNCTION MY MAGIC PROPERLY! YOU WANT YOUR LITTLE SISTER TO LIVE, YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH AND DO AS I SAY!"**

Ram fixed a hard glare on him as she held her cheek, tasting copper from inside her mouth.

"Go, Ram." Roswaal ordered sternly. "Do as he says."

Without a word, she bolted out the door and disappeared to do her task.

Turning back to the comatose girl with a mad glare on his face, the eyes still glowing bright to match a bonfire, he spiraled his wand over the girl's chest again.

"That was so mean, Emurdol." Emilia reproached coldly, not taking her eyes away from her work on Rem's kidneys.

**"Focus, Emilia." **He snapped harshly, eliciting a flinch from her. **"Lose your focus and the kidneys will crack."**

That was enough to put her head back into the situation, curling her fingers as her healing magic was diligently healing even the slightest rot on the organs she's handling alongside Puck.

"It'd be a surprise if the Elder Sister treats you any nicely even if you managed to save this girl, I suppose."

**"Shut up and work." **He snapped at Beatrice, making another pulse from Rem's heart. **"This is an operation, not a fucking tea party."**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

4 hours have passed since the beginning of the operation. The Priest was now well-fed, and the poisons in Rem's body have now lessened, carefully contained with the Priests blood magic while the worst of it is bled out into the bowl that's now containing a small depth of liquid. The girl is still breathing in the slowest of paces and her heartbeat containing long intervals before a pulse, but she's in a safer condition compared to before.

The rejuvenation elixir in his hand, the cap pulled off before he smelled its pleasant aroma, he nodded to Ram who held her little sister's head and the latter tilted Rem's head slightly up, opening the mouth and he poured a small drop of the purple liquid into the gap between her lips.

Putting the cap back on, Roswaal quickly took it off his hands before the Priest readied his now-free left hand and wand.

The most powerful healing liquid in Pandemonium reacted to the patient's condition and did its work. Then Rem's heart pulsed. Another. Then another. A rhythm was occurring, but it was not normal. It was causing stress to the organ.

His wand steadied the pace, waving it in a spiral according to the speed he desired for the organ while his other hand directed the blood to flow towards Rem's brain. Ram watched her little sister's chest rise and fall, _breathing _at last. Relief flooded her heart and tears ran from her eyes.

**"The poison is still in her system, but it's not fatal anymore." **The Priest informed, now directing the toxins filtered in the kidneys to course towards the slit wrist, dripping into the bowl and adding to the contents. **"The elixir will create new white blood cells to clean her system but it can only do so much before it gets overpowered."**

"Why not just make her drink the whole thing, I wonder?"

"Yeah. Just do it in small doses so you don't choke her in the process."

Emila was sent away to rest, objecting when told to despite her condition: sweating and about to collapse for the continuous effort of healing that lasted for a whole 2 and a half hours. Beatrice and Puck were left to handle everything by themselves, having more tenacious fortitudes compared to the half-elf.

**"This is the only one I have." **He told, directing the flow of Rem's blood so the white blood cells would know where to focus more and purge a large chunk of poisons in the process. **"I have to replicate it before I make her consume the whole thing."**

"Judging from these _ingreeeeedients_ you have Ram bring for you…" Roswaal gestured to the basin of herbs and medicinal liquids lying on the floor, untouched since being brought over. "...it is _stiiiiill_ an incomplete project, isn't it?"

**"Unfortunately." **He grudgingly shook his head, sneering.** "I have no choice but to begin working on it as soon as possible, otherwise the aftereffects will be permanent on her mind."**

"Aftereffects?" Ram parroted with a frown, worried.

**"I'm not looking forward to seeing it happen." **The eldritch voice was hard and cold, emphasizing the sincerity of his statement. He didn't seem keen in telling her what the aftereffects were. **"Once I clear out maybe an additional 23% of the toxins, I can begin. That will give me 6 hours of work before they worsen again."**

"And where does that leave us?" Puck asked, sitting atop Rem's waist while his paws glowed a healing white.

"Don't tell Betty and Bubby are just going to remain here forever, in fact!" Beatrice ranted from her place, her wide forehead sweaty as she forced her limping arms to remain extended towards the girl's chest.

**"You two are going to remain here and watch over the girl while I work."**

"Grr, in fact!"

"Oh dear."

**"Roswaal." **He called the Lord over.

"_Ooooon_ it." He placed his gloved hands on the Priest's shoulders, massaging him through the gaps of his bone armor while a refreshing surge of mana is steadily filling up his draining mana core. Despite having his energies used for somebody else for more than 5 dozen times, the Lord is not in the least exhausted. _"Hoooow_ is everybody on their work?"

"Betty is exhausted being this man's underling, I suppose! It is demeaning for a great and noble being like Betty, in fact!"

"I'm a little bushed but I can go for a couple more hours."

"Hmm." Roswaal nodded in acknowledgement. The former was never any tired. She's just being bipolar, complaining when she isn't even making any move of stopping. Instead, she's doing very diligently in the operation since it started. He turned to the Priest, "How about you, Ser _Eeeeemurdol_?"

**"The food can make me last for likely a day."**

"A day!?" Beatrice could not believe the limit he was having her work on. "Do you suppose Betty can last that long as much as you do, I wonder!?"

A pale hand grabbed her forehead with a smack and an energizing surge of mana is pumped into her core. As the hand was drawn away before she could slap it off, she then proceeded to stabilize not just the heart but other organs as well, doing magnificently in the process. Her unique butterfly eyes were practically burning from the invigorating energies coursing through her system.

"Aren't you _persuuuuaaaasive_, Ser?" Roswaal chuckled, still massaging him even though he's no longer passing him anymore mana.

"Can I have some of that too, Emurdol?" Puck requested, already draining it from the Priest with a cheeky feline smirk.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Bocco fruit. A little pebble that when eaten can replenish a healthy dose of mana and energy to a person under mana-burn. A strange addition to his ingredients.

The elixirs of mana and healing in Pandemonium were made from the extracts of mystical beasts. Some of the greater mixtures and the high-tiered rejuvenation were directly taken from the beautiful and crystal-clear springs that were rumored to have been directly touched by the Seraphim that made it _extremely _capable of bringing a fatally-injured man back to complete health as well as regrow lost limbs and organs.

Emurdol has literally _thousands _of those extracts put in thousands of containers and stuffed in the Void. Priests of the Serpent have many expertise to learn before they earn the right to meet the Above-World, and one among them is alchemy. It's where ones individual knowledge of Poisons would thrive in. Either through self-learn or under someone's tutelage, he learned the recipes of healing elixirs from minor to rejuvenation.

And in the process, he developed his toxins to the point that it cannot be cured by any elixir except rejuvenation, which is a _very_ rare possession to have. If Emurdol ever faces an enemy who happened to have such an immense stock of healing materials in their disposal, the odds would be in his favor before the fight even starts.

And that person happened to be William the Valet, otherwise known as the Supreme Corruption of Pride. Killing him liberated an entire state from his deranged drive to _help_.

The Priest never knew that such a forethought would lead him to this point, where a rejuvenation mixture was actually _needed _and Emurdol's own _blood_ would put him in a harsh predicament. Maybe he should have invested more time into his alchemy before he was apparently forced into this world.

But dwelling on should-haves is not his hobby. Right now, he must focus. He already left the room and went back to the empty servant room he ate from, readied his instruments on the table as he pulled them out of the Void while the ingredients Ram brought is sitting on the floor beside his feet.

Trial and error would only waste precious time, but being smart in regards to trial and error can make the time he's got for himself well-spent.

And that's why he's got 5 skeletons in the room with him, born from the dust he kept in his bag, each one carrying the same instructions but having different recipes to create. Instead of one result in each trial, there will be six yielded.

Ingenuity is an essential quality in order to be ordained a remarkable Priest. Your education and Ideology may be given to you in order to be wise but you are never taught _anything _in order to be strong, only guided and nudged to the right direction. You are a human, and humans are strong and wonderful beings, therefore you teach _yourself_ how to be strong by your own design.

Emurdol's concept of strong is based on the use of one's mind, and that's why he made it this far after all the things he's done in Pandemonium. Blades and bones can only do so much without a strategy.

More than 4 hours have passed, and his progress reaching somewhere between 49% to 59%, he worked with mechanical efficiency that made him equal to the minions hard at work around him, without rest and without frustration, Emotion Suppression at play. The bocco fruit may have created a large leap from the 39% block he was stuck from in regards to the replication but there is just _something _missing from it all. The tiny fruit only replenished vigor, and the more than half of the ingredients Ram brought are still untested. The ones tested are only useful in a poison recipe and mending minor wounds.

A mixture of a healing elixir and mushed paste of bocco fruit, topped by an extract from the immortal heart of the Undying Bear. With a series of procedures followed up, a sample is poured into a glass tube. The color was an unfortunate dull yellow. Just to be sure, he took a small whiff from it and was immediately disappointed.

Not the one.

"_Fuck_." He may not have a voice anymore but some words can still be said without it.

Carefully placing the tube in the case alongside the other failures, he turned away from the table and rested his face to his left hand, releasing the lock of his emotions and letting his exhaustion hit him.

This is getting _nowhere _for him despite his advancing progress. He jumped over one block, only to be obstructed by an even taller one. That's not any better. The skeletons are still working on theirs but he's only expecting disappointment from them, about to meet the same obstruction as him.

If he fails this…..Rem's identity will no longer _exist. _She will remain the same. Her personality will be intact. Her usual diligence will remain unchanged. Her unique _everything _will be just like how Ram knew her to be…..but her _foundation _will be gone.

What he's done to the Seventh Child _cannot _be done to that Maid.

But how can he stop it? How can he remove _all _of his blood running through the girl's system without killing her?

"Emurdol?"

He raised his head slightly, just enough to see the Dear Girl peeking from the open door through his bangs before mashing his face back to his palm.

"You and your fellows are reeaally hard at work, aren't you all?" She commented with an encouraging smile, looking over the skeletons in their respective places of the room.

He clicked his tongue in displeasure at the irony of it, **"We're still halfway, and we're **_**stuck**_**."**

"Still." She persisted in seeing the good side of things. "It just means you've done some work for Rem."

**"That does not always mean it's a good thing." **He snapped, his skeletal right hand clenching tightly, cracking and breaking apart from the pressure. **"If nothing helpful comes out of it, I might as well be wasting my fucking time."**

Her face twisted in a scowl, "Come now. Don't be so pessimistic."

**"I am **_**not**_**." **His skeletal foot stomped the ground, the ivory cracking from the amount of force put into it. The skeletons around them worked without caring of what's happening with their master behind them. **"I'm being realistic here. Do not ever lump me in the same level as you idiots who do not see things carefully and rationally compared to me."**

The last thing he wanted to happen in this room is useless conversation, and this girl's only wasting both their times.

Then he heard her footsteps come close. Raising his head up, wondering what more does she want, only for his green eyes to meet a small blue crystal in her palms held out to him.

**"What is it?"**

"It's a blank mana crystal infused with my mana. Water mana, specifically. I don't know if it's going to help you but this is all I can do to help if I'm too tired to contribute."

He took a deep breath through his nose and blew it out through his mouth. She could have given him this sooner instead of yammering about 'contributions'. It's one thing to want to contribute, it's another thing about being direct. She was not being direct at first, and that pisses him off.

He repaired his skeletal hand and held out an open palm, which she placed the crystal on. **"I'll put it to good use."**

Then her cheer returned to her face for his sincerity, "Please do." She said before leaving.

He watched her long silver hair trail behind her form until it was truly gone before looking at the blue stone in his hand.

"Hmph."

He knows what she was thinking. Since water mana has the property of healing, she might think that its components could help as an ingredient to the elixir. He shook his head, unamused. Only if she could manipulate her mana like it was an arm just like him. Spirit Mages like her needed assistance in that regard. Besides, what is he going to do with the stone? Grind it into dust with the mortar and pestle? Even if it does not explode like he thinks it would, how can the mana do what he wants it to do? Can it even respond to his blood or the toxins?

"Tsk." He mashed his face to his palm again.

If only he can solidify his _own _mana without _any _of his biological anatomy being part of it.

….

…..…..

…..…..…..…..

Beneath the palm holding his face, his brow furrowed in thought. Raising his head up, maintaining the shining light on his eyes, he looked at the blue crystal on his hand. A _blank_, **overwritten** by the Dear Girl's water mana.

…..

…

…..what if he's doing this the wrong way?

He rose up to his feet, and looked over the instruments on the table, then down on the ingredients he haven't used, then up to the ingredients he have used on another table, then to the potion containing that miraculous purple liquid, and finally back to the stone in his hand.

He is dealing with _poison _here, not gruesome wounds. To deal with poison, he needs antivenin. His toxins were made to spread its influence as soon as he wills it, and he remembers very well that he was already prepared in case he wishes to undo the effects. But to do so, he must _will _it along with a cast of blood magic. In order to will it, he needs mana. Mana that carried his will. But that mana flows through his blood. He cannot mix his blood in the mixture or it would defeat the purpose once consumed otherwise. But if he was to solidify his mana the same way the Dear Girl has…..

…..

…..…..

…..…..…..

His mouth moved to speak it as he had thought of it, _[Antidote.]_

The Emurdol Venom…..now has a cure…..

And it was all thanks to this Dear Girl giving him a piece of mana stone infused with her own personal energies just because she wanted to help.

Practically moving at the speed of light even though his legs wasn't of Mother's build, he was springing down the hallway chasing after Emilia's walking form, the mana stone thrown into the Void. When the latter heard the loud footsteps coming behind her and turned around to see what it was, she yelped before two hands, one of flesh and the other of ivory, grabbed her shoulders, up close to the Priest's wide green eyes.

"Wh-what!?"

**"Can mana be solidified aside from using mana stones?"**

"Huh? U-um, no. It's hard but it's not impossible, I-I mean, Roswaal's a great magician but Puck said even he can't do it. Beatrice might be able to—"

He released her and ran to Rem's room, practically breaking the door open with his shoulder when he twisted the knob and was in time to see Beatrice jolt from her place besides the girl's comatose form. Roswaal, Puck and Ram looked at him with wide eyes for his unexpected barging.

"Ah! What're you—"

Without any further confirmation that she's still there doing diligently in stabilizing Rem's condition, he whisked her off the bed, placing her carefully on his bone-covered shoulder and running back to the borrowed room-turned-alchemy room. She flailed with her arms and legs the whole way.

"Agh! What are you doing to Betty, I wonder!? Let go, in fact! Do you want to be blown to the wall—"

Midway through her angry yelling, the Priest had already brought her to the room and set her down to the chair he formerly used, cutting off her sentence.

She fussily slapped off the hands holding her before she glared at him, "Now why have you bro—"

**"Can you crystallize mana, even if borrowed?"**

"Could you let Betty finish what she's trying to tell you!?"

**"Irrelevant."**

"_Irrelevant_!?" Her voice had a rise in pitch in incredulousness.

**"Nonessential to the Operation."**

"Then why did you bring Betty here!? Grrr!" Her face was literally turning red as an apple from her anger, "Oh, the _temptation_ to blast you out of this mansion, I suppose!"

He knelt down to one knee, his skeletal fist resting against the floor, his eyes now level with hers. He watched her intently, saying nothing and waiting for her to calm down. She continued to fume, glaring at him for dozens of seconds before she deflated, just slightly. As the skeletons continued on their work despite the heated exchange going on behind them, she finally asked, "What do you want, I wonder?"

**"Can you crystal—"**

"Betty heard you the first time." She interrupted, "Why do you want Betty to do it?"

He brought up his left hand, making a small light of green to emanate from his fingers. **"The poison reacts to my mana. I can easily direct **_**all **_**toxins out of her body, but her blood is tainted with it. If I attempt it, she dies of blood loss."**

Beatrice remained silent and still, listening carefully.

**"My solution would be the elixir. Replicating that rejuvenation mixture is still a hurdle for me." **He gestured to the glass tubes at the table next to the instruments behind her, which she turned to look at,** "Too many failures despite the new ingredients. Even the bocco fruit isn't enough. My only alternative is to use my blood."**

Her fascination immediately died, turning to him with a disgusted look for his said alternative, "Disgusting, in fact. Why?"

**"I know blood magic. My every blood cell has clumps of mana that I could manipulate like an arm. It's even compatible for other people to be transfused to without complications, human or not. If I were to give her even a small amount to her veins…."**

"You would be able to purge her entire body of the toxins." Beatrice inferred.

He nodded.

She looked at him steadily. "What's stopping you, in fact?"

He pursed his lips lightly, **"My blood **_**is **_**the toxin."**

She recoiled even further, the disgust becoming even more apparent on her face. "And Betty thought your bodily makeup is already monstrous."

**"I'm **_**still**_** human…" **He firmly pointed out, having no debate on the fact. **"…and I made my body this way, just like the rest of my people had."**

Beatrice hummed, crossing her arms and pondering over the absorbed information. Returning to the crux of this conversation, she said, "By crystallizing your mana, you can use it as a _tangible _component for your elixir without ever using your blood."

He nodded in confirmation, **"If you can make it brittle, that would be very helpful. The mortar and pestle will be enough to grind it into powder."**

"You say these things as if Betty will actually do what you say."

He held a long-suffering look, **"And what is stopping you?"**

She made a haughty look, "Why should Betty help you?"

**"You ask me that even after all the effort you've done for the girl?"**

Then her face colored red, "Because you forced Betty to it!"

**"And you didn't even **_**stop **_**despite multiple opportunities." **He rose up to his feet, his lips curling in a wry grimace, **"You even stayed there for a whole **_**8 hours.**_**"**

"Only because Bubby insisted!" She stubbornly objected, crossing her arms and looking away. "It's not like Betty would do it for anybody's sake, I suppose. Much less for _you._"

**"Do this and become an accomplice in the girl's full recovery. I am certain Puck will be proud for your assistance in creating the antivenin." **He leaned his upper body downwards, his gaze perfectly leveled to Beatrice's butterfly irises. His form is impressively bent into a 50 degree angle, not even losing his balance. **"Refuse and I will mention the inaction you've done by being stubborn to the others when you could have changed the outcome by cooperating. I mention this to Emilia, she will be cross with you as well as everybody else. What do you think your **_**precious little Bubby **_**will think of you once I do?"**

She shook on the chair with gritted teeth and a grumble, her impressive hair drills vibrating as they hung. "Forcing Betty to stabilize the girl's heart against her will and now you blackmail her? You are despicable, I suppose!"

He was about to mention the fact that she was already stabilizing the girl _before_ he even arrived to Rem's room the first time but held his tongue, avoiding a time-wasting argument, **"Just do it before her symptoms relapses and force all of us through **_**another**_** 8 hours of the operation again."**

Her eyes widened at the prospect of more work for her to do at Rem's bedside, so she grumbled even further, cheeks puffing in indignance before submitting. "Get it over with. Don't expect Betty to help you next time."

**"I expect Betty to fail upholding her own words." **He retorted before righting his posture and kneeling down again, both his hands, ivory and flesh, held out in a cupping gesture before Beatrice. Closing his eyes, suppressing his emotions and allowing pure focus to settle in his mind, green energy began glowing from his palms like the smoke of incense.

Beatrice held out her hands towards the energies as if warming her hands over the fire, and the green necromantic energies seeped into her digits, coursing through her arms and filling her mana core with invigorating energy.

Controlling her form from twitching, she chanted in a light voice, "_Minya._"

The sound of the Priest's borrowed mana solidifying filled the air before the crystal emerged from the space above Beatrice's tiny hands. The conjured rock was a ball of rugged texture, colored a swampy green and its core slightly pulsing with light.

When its size was enough to match the size of her head, she finally stopped the spell. "This should be enough, I suppose." She prompted, taking the green crystal in her little hands, slightly weighed down by its unexpected heaviness.

Opening his eyes, he took only a second to marvel at what their collaboration bore fruit to before his skeletal hand took it from underneath, careful not to break it as he relieved Beatrice from it. Snapping the fingers of his free hand, one skeleton paused in its work and walked over with a mortar and pestle in its ivory hands. Placing it on the ground before its Master, it took the green rock carefully before the Priest snipped off a small chunk of it with relative ease using his bony fingers and placing it on the container.

Taking the pestle and holding the mortar against the floor to keep it steady, he crushed and grinded the crystal into fine powder, the green particles shining invitingly from any light present in the dark room, the morning failing to enter thanks to the closed curtains. Deeming the grains tiny enough to go through the bloodstream without trouble, he stood up with the mortar in hand and set to work on the new recipe on the table.

Beatrice stood up from the chair and watched him work in a mechanical and professional fashion, his eyes glowing green with determination and hope. After a few short minutes, he now has access to the first batch of the antivenin, green-blue liquid put in a simple tube. Standard ingredients for a healing elixir as a base, a single drop from the rejuvenation liquid for the regeneration factor, and a pinch of his solidified mana granules to make it easy to direct and manipulate.

For the moment of truth.

Cutting his thumb from the sharpened jaws of his attending skeleton, he let a full drop of blood land on his palm. With careful precision, his skeletal hand holding the tube poured the tiniest drip to land on the splatter. Handing the tube to Beatrice to hold, he held his open hand and looked at his palm intensely, eyes glowing even brighter than before as he held his breath. The Spirit also held her breath, not knowing what should happen to entail either a success or a failure but she looked at his palm very closely, eyes narrowed.

Moments pass.

…..

..…...

…..…..…..

And then at the passing of a whole minute, when Beatrice was about to call it a failure, a black puddle _moved _away from the red splatter, as if it was trying to escape. Green eyes and butterfly irises watched the foreign element with great scrutiny. It fled, fled, fled, reaching the very edge of his palm and eventually….it dripped to the floor, staining the carpet black and doomed to dry.

He turned to Beatrice with the most enthused look on his face and nodded. **"We did it." **His victorious smile was infectious, but the Spirit held it down. **"Congratulations, Beatrice. You are officially the co-creator of the antivenin to the Emurdol Venom."**

"Hmph." She tried to look proud and composed, crossing her arms and looking away, but her blushing cheeks are saying something else. "Now we won't have to go through another 8 hours of that ordeal again. Now do you have something to say to Betty, I wonder?"

He nodded sincerely, wiping his palm to his robes before clapping his hands in a rhythm followed by a courteous bow of the deepest respect. Beatrice felt her mana core being transfused with just a tiny bit of his invigorating mana. **"Thank you so much, Beatrice. You will be properly rewarded when this is over."**

"If you plan to, then you must tell Betty all about your magic." She told, turning around to face the skeletons still hard at work, working tirelessly to achieve a result despite the conclusion that happened. "Despite Betty's vast knowledge, this sort of magicry is unheard of, I suppose."

**"It shall be done." **He took the tube from her hands in polite movements and headed back to the table, **"You may go and tell the good news. I will need a few more minutes to create a full vial of this."**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The potion was now in his hand, green-blue liquid swishing as he swirled the contents in preparation. Rem's naked body lay on the bed, pale and barely moving once again. Her limbs were elevated, held by all the residents of the mansion. Ram held her right hand tightly and hovered the wrist over the same bowl earlier. Beatrice and Puck held her left hand, another bowel beneath the wrist. Roswaal held her left foot from the sheets while Emilia held the right, bowls placed beneath the ankles.

Pulling the cap off the cylindrical vial, he held her chin with a thumb to open her mouth before carefully and meticulously poured the contents in the opening, emptying the container. The skeleton that was standing behind him took the bottle and passed him the wand.

With his eyes glowing bright green, he repeated the procedure: swirling the wand above her bare chest, drawing another pulse from her heart and blood is sent flowing through her body. This time, he prevented the flow from going through her limbs, making sure she doesn't bleed out. The antivenin will do the rest from there, attacking the toxins polluting her blood and forcing them out of the body via the new cuts on her wrists and ankles.

Several minutes pass, with him repeating the same motion with mechanical repetition, tireless and focused with all his diligence.

And then, hope.

"It's pouring….it's pouring…" Ram muttered hopefully, tears running down her face as she watched the black liquid flow from the cut and into the bowl.

"There's some here too. Looks like Emurdol's antidote's working like a charm." Puck commented.

"With Betty's help, in fact." Beatrice reminded, stroking her thumb across the vein to quicken the flow of the venom on her end.

"It _seeeeeems_ this operation is officially a success." Roswaal remarked with a happy tone in his drawl, turning to the half-elf, "_Doooon't_ you think, Lady Emilia?"

"Yes!" She nodded with a bright smile on her face, watching as the leg she held now began to drip black blood. "Rem's going to be alright, right, Emurdol?"

A light nod from the Priest was all she received, still maintaining the spiraling motions of his wand.

The proceedings lasted for a whole 42 minutes, each bowl rising in depth little by little before the last of the toxins finally left her body. The Priest laid a hand on Rem's abdomen and sent out a diagnostic wave with his mana. Nodding for her _clean _state, organs now weakened but healable, he snapped his fingers before the skeleton passed him a healing elixir and pouring it into the girl's mouth again. A second later, the cuts on her wrists and ankles began closing.

**"With this, her damaged cells, nerves and organs will restore themselves overnight." **He informed, the eldritch voice neutral and professional as he moved away from the bed and had his skeleton as well as an extra one waiting by the door gather the bowls of collected venom. **"Her breathing and heartbeat will return to normal at any moment. She will also wake up hungry, thirsty and likely ill so I suggest a meal prepared beforehand."**

"Okey-dokie!" Emilia was happy to help in any way she can, walking out the door with a skip in her step. "Come on, Puck, Beatrice. Let's make a feast worthy of a queen!"

"Coming. Let's go, Betty." The Cat flew over the bed, beckoning the cute humanoid Spirit over. "Let's watch Lia mix the salt and pepper together!"

"Yes, Bubby~!" Beatrice practically glided as she went around the bed and out the door, following after Emilia.

Ram turned to the Priest, "Rem is now saved?" She asked, just to be sure with her ears for the last time.

He nodded, not meeting her crimson eyes as he took the blanket tossed on the corner and threw it over Rem's body to keep her warm once the fever sets in. **"She'll live."**

The elder sister practically sagged from the immense relief coursing through her whole body, her head resting on the bed and muttering her gratitude but refusing to let them be heard by him. Moments after, she eventually lost her consciousness, 8 hours of accumulated stress now taking their toll as she sat with her legs folded to the side on the floor, leaning against the edge of the mattress with her grip on Rem's hand unyielding.

He kept his gaze on her once she was no longer staring at him, only looking away once he knew she was asleep. He turned to the Archmage crossing his arms and smiling as he leant against the wall, not minding the fact that his mana is being siphoned by the Priest to the latter's core. **"I am going to address the culprit of this incident…."** He turned to face the wall, or rather, at a certain person held prisoner by the same culprit. **"…and the **_**other **_**victim of this venom."**

Roswaal only offered a nod of acknowledgement, offering no objection. "May I ask _sooomething_?" He held up a finger, "Since Ram's return from the forest with Rem, she has told me of a certain 'Viandegroc', an entity that has possessed that body of yours in the midst of the rescue effort. When you fought me in that _terrifying_ form to this very moment where you stood before me having saved one of my staff from death, which of the two controls the body? Is it the stranger Viandegroc, or the Necromancer Emurdol Viandegroc?"

The Priest fixed an unreadable stare at the clown, still as a corpse, and he held himself like that for a whole two minutes, with Roswaal maintaining a leveled gaze back at him before the latter decided not to answer and walked out the door.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

For the umpteenth time, Meili wondered how she was still alive. Since falling off of Elsa's arms when the latter was suddenly beheaded upon breaching the surface and into the catastrophic climate, taking a rough landing back to the earth that shattered her shoulder and cracked her ribs, she had been knocked unconscious, only to wake up when a fallen tree landed on her right hand and _decimated _it.

Her voice was parched from her recent screaming and crying, despair and desperation cruelly ravaging her heart and mind when she was left all alone in the storm. Her captor wasn't there. Elsa wasn't there. They are likely swept away by the storm, ravaged thoroughly by the tornado that was _circling _around her pinned form at a thankfully safe distance. The fact that not one of the two came back to get her likely indicated their fate.

At this point, she had lost all hope, weeping and sobbing, pitying the circumstance she got herself into. She got caught during her job. She got Elsa killed. Serious consequences await her once she returns to Mother. She wished for her death. She wanted her misery to stop. She wanted all this suffering she got herself shoved into to end. She doesn't care how her life will be snuffed out. From internal bleeding, from diseases accumulated due to infection, from being mauled by a wild animal, or even _saved_. She'll be satisfied with whatever, so long as it _ends _quickly.

And then she felt the earth tremble once more.

….a rhythmic tremble, as if a giant was strolling along the forest floors she was trapped and left to die in. It was coming closer.

Using what little strength she had left, deprived of food and water for so long, even if the pain and agony on her body had miraculously started fading half an hour ago, she had no power to move any part of her body except her eyes.

And she recognized what she saw.

Large and rocky fists, stomping the ground in each step of its stride as it carried its top-heavy anatomy towards its destination. A Rock Golem, the same ones she's seen amidst her delirium when she was 'rescued' that night.

This being was not alone, and she saw the one who was likely going to bring the _end _she wanted.

Though his attire was different compared to the light-eating robes before, blue and casual, the same type men would use when going to sleep, his pale hair and skin could not be mistaken for somebody else. The bones coating his upper body and the bony wand hanging from his waist sash made it all too clear who he was. He was, however, a lot lankier compared to their last sight of each other. His cheek bones are showing through his face.

His gaze was impassive and unreadable, his green eyes glowing gently and his hands, with his right literally made out of bone, were open and hung beside him. When his _skeletal _feet are just a meter away from her face, he knelt to one knee, the impression of his legs the sleeves of his pants gave exposed what was likely beneath, and a horrifying sound breached into her mind.

**"How pitiful."**

Terror grabbed her heart with a vice-like grip, tight and unyielding. Despite her already-pathetic state, there was still room for fear when she already had her fill of pain.

**"Forsaken and forgotten. Now you are left to die alone in this lonely forest where even the witchbeasts would not venture through in fear of the Reaper. It must have been so cruel, wasn't it?"**

Though the terrorizing Voice continued to send wave after wave of dread to her heart, she felt herself finding an underlying _comfort _in it. It wasn't speaking in an emotionless tone, instead it was a warm and fatherly quality, comforting a hurting daughter and wanting to soothe her pain with all he can.

As if to prove that theory, a skeletal hand laid its fingers on her head, combing her light blue hair before the bony palm patted her head very gently. The softest touch she ever received after 4 grueling days suffering under the watch of the skeletal menace, even Elsa's rescue rough effort was in no way gentle. This hand gave her all the comfort she's been asking for since then, and it put her at immense ease.

**"But worry not, for I will not abandon you. As the bearer of my blood, you will no longer suffer under anyone's hand anymore except mine. What life you have led before, whatever pain you suffered from that life, you will not face it again.** **"**

She was starting to get drawn to this loving and fatherly tone. All the pain in her body and mind was disappearing. The warmth of the Voice heated her heart, bringing her ease as the bitter cold of the coming dusk in the damp forest hastened her hypothermia. She wanted to reach out with a hand and hold someone else's own. Specifically, this man's. But she was too weak, too broken to move.

The ivory hand rested against her temple, the bony thumb moving stray locks of her bangs away from her face. She felt the _end _arriving. Her consciousness was dying. She felt the burden of being in a broken body pulled off her shoulders, and the relief pushed her closer and closer to the inviting arms of eternal Sleep.

**"Go." **The Voice gently urged her. **"Go to sleep now. Set aside all your pains and worries and rest. Close your eyes and know that I will be here with you and will never leave you to suffer alone ever again. So long as the bond that binds our souls together is held sacred, you will forever be under my protection."**

Before the sweet embrace of peace washed over her and her final breath is taken away, she heard one last intonation from the Voice.

**"Perish and let the Dragon know your Soul, Daughter."**


	13. Discipline

Roswaal looked over the contents of the Gospel, feeling both relief and apprehension.

One of the last few entries stated that the 'the waters will rise', and it showed when the wall of water arrived by Emurdol's wrath in his terrifying form.

As everything went according to the writ, his aims are still secured and his goals have a chance to be realized.

What brought him a slight concern, however, was that it did not mention _anything_ about the Necromancer turning into an entity of cosmic capability beyond imagination. He drained _every _mana in the world and even _turned back time_ to repair the damages. A feat of magic that no one in existence nor in history has ever accomplished.

Or more specifically….

"It said not a thing about Ser Viandegroc's actions."

Viandegroc was the one in control of that Horror, Roswaal knew that, and the writ said _nothing_ about it. It mentioned Rem was about to die, but it said _nothing _about Emurdol's Mother being responsible. It only mentioned that the servant will be saved by the man.

The conclusion was easy to find, even if the man never answered his question before he left to address his Mother.

The _Dead _are outside the Gospel's overview. It showed when an entry said that Emurdol banished himself into the wand but it never said anything about his body being possessed by Viandegroc and began purging the forest of in his stead.

"Hmph." Roswaal shut the black book in a snap before embracing it close to his chest, tenderly and lovingly, the memory of his Teacher crossing his mind like a lost lover. "No matter. You _will_ bring me to the completion of my goals, Ser Emurdol."

Rem had _nearly _complicated things. The necromancer's involvement in Emilia's life is vital, and he was nearly driven off. But still, her poisoned _and_ cured state happened to be a crucial factor in the future.

There's no way Emurdol would leave without answers. He still needs to address certain things about his circumstances, and when he does, it will make certain of his prolonged presence in the mansion.

For now, he will have to wait.

"I wonder what surprise will you conjure for us next come two weeks."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Rem's head shot up from the pillow, feeling like she had nearly drowned when she was sent out of her dreams and her eyes shot open, taking deep heaving breaths to regain what oxygen she desperately needed. First, she felt the heat on her head, then she felt the absolute _brittleness _of her entire frame. Her heart created a practical drum, beating loudly in her chest that she could feel it touching the walls of its chamber. She wouldn't be surprised if the bed shook with it in tandem.

Her head flopped tiredly against the pillow, feeling like boned fish as she breathed in and out as if she had ran the entire nation of Lugunica from up to down, incapable of even the slightest movements in the aftermath. Even keeping her eyes open seemed like an arduous thing to do, eyelids weighing like iron to keep up. She could only see through a tiny gap.

Other than the fragility of her entire body, feeling like it could crumble at any moment as if she were a withering old lady, she could not feel her limbs. They must have lost the circulation of blood due to lying atop them, most likely. Her mouth was horribly dry, and tasted bitterly, as if she ate meat and went to bed without even a drink of water.

The Maid scrunched up her face and wondered with lamentation over how she ended up like this. She patiently waited for her condition to stabilize, the cold feeling of her limbs restoring their blood supply as well as the drum-like beating heart in her chest becoming steady and calm, her eyes were finally able to open.

Her still-numb hand quickly reached up to her face and covered her sensitive vision from the light of the lamp hanging on the wall, cold fingers meeting her countenance. She felt the cool air of the evening, around her shoulders and even on her back that rested on the soft mattress.

Looking down, she finally realized that she was naked underneath the covering, and that her Elder Sister was knelt on the floor on her bedside, head resting against the bed and gripping her right hand in a tight grip.

"Dear Sister…." She whispered, wondering what was going on.

The soft mention of her name was enough to stir Ram up, and immediately, the elder sister's face shot upwards as she realized what she heard, looking at Rem straight in the eyes with full disbelief. Her mouth shook, her crimson orbs were wide. The image of composure and confidence that was characteristic of her was nonexistent.

The sight threw Rem off, worry and horror filling her heart in concern, "Dear Sister…?"

The next condition she suffered since waking up is suffocation and a wet shoulder, courtesy of Ram's assault that consisted of a crushing hug around her neck and the wailing tears that dripped on her bare flesh.

The night soon followed with rejoicing, thanking, and a belly full of bitter meals.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Darkness. Darkness was everywhere. Sound didn't exist. Time didn't exist. Sensation didn't exist. Scent didn't exist. There was nothing to be touched.

Meili stood dumbfounded, wondering why she's the only _tangible_ being in this nothingness. But her limited knowledge gave her the only conclusion, "Am I in heaven?"

She remembered being pinned under a tree, another crushing her hand while her entire body was broken in a variety of ways. Shattered left shoulder. Cracked ribs. Bent knee. Crushed ankle. Her broken hand was already obvious. There happened to be a stick buried in her back at some point but she wasn't sure. She would have died sooner from bleeding if that were the case.

The last thing she saw before her slow demise was a Rock Golem and her 'rescuer', a terrifying but loving voice speaking in her head while a skeleton's hand made sure she felt peace in her final moments by caressing her head.

And now she found herself here in the nothingness, naked and now in a healthier state. No bruises, no bleedings, no black veins, no deformities, and no pain; just the white body of a 12 year old assassin, the only colorful, noisy, and mobile _thing _in the blackness around her.

She didn't know what to expect in death. She was not the type to dwell in such a thing. Her daily life consisted of interacting with the witchbeasts at her command, arguing with Elsa, doing errands for Mama, and watching someone die. "Or is this heeeell….?" Blackness might be a valid thing if she was condemned to such a place but she expected something else.

She wasn't expecting an answer to her question, however.

An emotionless voice uttered everywhere. "If it was either of those, it would not be this stagnant and empty."

"EEP!" Her yelp echoed all around her, the nothingness amplifying her surprise in a manner that it felt as if the realm yelped alongside her. "Wh-what was that?!"

This time, the voice came from behind her. And it was undeniably male and young, "An answer."

"Hya!" She would have fallen on her rear as she jolted from her place, but the realm doesn't accommodate gravity. She instead remained in place in the air, but she didn't have the time to realize that and curled her legs to herself while she covered her bare chest with her hands. "Who are you!?"

The person stared straight into her eyes, barely caring about the fact that a little naked girl was floating in the air in front of him, hands behind him as he stood ramrod straight and responded, "Your Host." He raised up a white hand level to his face and snapped his pale fingers.

Gravity was conceptualized and Meili landed roughly on _stone _floors, eliciting a squeak from her. Groaning and rubbing her back, she sat up and looked over the man in his full form.

And he was unexpectedly young. He almost seemed close to her age despite his absurd height that Elsa matched. His dark robes almost seemed to blend with the murky emptiness around them and it made his pale features shine. Just like his hair, his face was white, pale enough to look like a corpse, especially with his empty visage. His green eyes were the only ones that expressed any sort of emotion, piercing and stone cold with indifferent _malice_.

His sudden bow of welcome negated the impression, however; upper body bent forward and gesturing to the nonexistent scenery behind him with one hand, exhuming the most graceful of demeanors.

"Welcome to the Court, Little One." He greeted, polite and impassive. "Follow me and we may begin your rehabilitation." He told as he turned around and began walking onwards to nowhere, his feet hidden beneath his long robes that almost scraped its edges against the stone floors.

"Wait!" Meili called out to him, the thought of being left alone in the darkness horrified her despite her calm disposition towards it at first. "What is this place?"

He didn't answer nor did he stop walking. There was a circle of tangibility around him, _existence _in the form of stone ground coming to be in a 2 meter radius. It's as if he's in the center of a spotlight in a stage, illuminating only himself and anything in his immediate proximity.

The little girl had no spotlight around her. She's only lying atop _nothing_. She only felt the stony ground because he was nearby. Now that he's moving further away, the terror that this 'Court' was beginning to induce started creeping into her heart.

"W-Wait! I'm coming!" Rising to her feet, fighting the sensation of discomfort when she literally felt _nothing _below the soles of her feet despite 'stepping'on _something_, she ran after him and went into the radius of his spotlight. She never felt relieved to be walking barefoot on stone before. Looking up to him, she covered her chest again with her hands even though he wasn't moving his straightforward gaze away.

After a full minute where the discomfort of being naked compared to him was starting to get overbearing, she asked, "Do you have anything for me to weeaar?"

"You are not naked, Little One." He replied nonchalantly, the continuous motion of walking and looking straightforward never broken.

She frowned, looked down on herself, then looked back at him exasperatedly, "_What_?"

"When you don't want to be." He finished.

She suddenly felt enclosed. When she looked at herself once more, she found the clothes that signified her occupation in her living life worn over her once-bare form. A long dark cape with a red underside resting on her shoulders, black long sleeved shirt that kept her warm from Gusteko's eternal winter and stripped stockings underneath a short black skirt that hugged her legs tightly down to her ankles where her feet wore flat-heeled boots, tapping softly against the ground. "Huh." She felt her sleeves a little with her white fingers, finding comfort in her modesty.

"What's your name, Misteeeer?" She asked, wanting to avoid the oppressive silence in the Court that only her footsteps could break in short intervals.

"You will know soon enough." He curtly answered.

"Why not tell me noooow? It's not like it'll change anythiiiing."

"Correct. Knowing my name changes nothing, therefore I will not tell you."

She pouted at his consistent tone of voice, curt and straight to the point. It's obvious that he was not inclined to be talking to anybody, he's just there to do his job.

Meili wasn't inclined to give up so quickly. "What is this plaaace?"

"Nothing." He answered simply.

She tried to be patient, "Meaning….?"

"This place epitomizes pure nothingness and the nothingness is overwritten by memories."

"Memoriiiieees?"

"The ground we walk on was once the place I born in, but it has been years since my last sight of it." He was continually unchanging in its emotionless drone, even though he was talking about his own home. "Have they changed it or is it as stagnant as always?" Despite asking, he was devoid of any genuine inquiry.

She looked down on the ground, seeing nothing but grey and uneven rock, jagged unlike floors that would normally be found in a home. She gathered one conclusion, "A caaave?" She inferred.

"We existed as a legitimate society deep within the ground, never found and never disturbed by the World Above."

"Ooooh." She walked up to his side, peering at his white features with interest shining in her eyes of olive green. "So that's why your face is all whiiiite. You don't get a lot of sunshiiine."

He gave no reply but he suddenly broke from the rhythm of his movements, raising his hands at the level of his chest and _clapped_. It was a thunderous sound, enough to match a thunder strike that occurred right next to her. Meili yelped once more and covered her ears as it rung.

"Ooowieee! How do you clap so hard, Mist—OOF!" She was about to complain but she suddenly hit a rock wall, stumbling backwards as she held her cheek. She turned to look and it was not a wall like she thought. It was a square block of stone, and there was a skinned corpse lying atop it. Looming over the red body was her Host, frozen in place as if time had stopped. The look on his face, however, was a complete opposite of what Meili knew. Instead of being detached, his face was animated with determination and an excited _smile _on his face.

"Wha…." She was lost for words.

"This…." She successfully held down her yelp when her Host suddenly appeared behind his frozen counterpart, staring at it dispassionately. "…was the time when I attempted the lowest technique of the Order."

She recalled the words he said about what this place holds only and found the conclusion as to why something bizarre is happening in front of her. "Memories…"

"It was unworthy of any praise. Zombies are merely dolls that children could make, easily broken and thrown away." He explained, circling around the stone block and heading onwards to his original path. Meili just realized that the radius of existence had expanded as far as a hundred meters away, illuminating more extensions of stony ground, showing other frozen scenes of memories. "But I was intent on its flesh. A Flesh Golem worthy of me."

She took a glance on the new surroundings, glanced at the frozen scenery of his attempt at creating the Flesh Golem, then back to his walking form before she ran after him, not intent on being left alone in a place that doesn't make sense.

"Hey, Misteer. Are all those…things your memoriieess?" She asked as soon as she reached his side and matched his pace, walking past a scene where her Host, looking a few ages younger compared to the last scene, stood with his hands glowing in power, surrounded by an array of large bony spikes made out of what looked like spinal columns that seemed to have sprouted from the ground around him like a blooming flower.

"Events of my former life." His gaze never wandered anywhere except forward, barely giving _anything _else a glance except what's in front of him. "The ones nearby are considered the memorable chapters."

Meili looked at another memory that's just up ahead, an image of a blindfolded little boy holding a bony wand that was offered to him by a tall woman, wearing dark robes just like the Host and sporting features of pure white as well, a rare smile of warmth spread over her beautiful face with glowing onyx-blue eyes. "Is that your mama?"

"The one and only." He had broken again the rhythm by staring at the frozen event all the way until he walked past it. When he did walk past it, he still fixed his eyes on it by looking over his shoulder before facing straightforward again. "Regretfully a shame….I brought her nothing but shame for having brought death upon myself before I could contribute _anything_."

His voice is still dead, impassive and emotionless. Despite speaking of what could possibly be a depressing moment for him, he was consistent in his detachment.

And it silenced all notions for conversation Meili had. The Host was not a mysterious entity that was going to welcome her to the afterlife like she always thought. He was just another human being like her. He had a life, and it was cut short. He had yet to mature, yet to suffer what the world truly is, or even a moment to find love.

And as of now, she suffered the same fate. She will never grow old to become a woman like Elsa, beautiful and seductive. She will not have the chance to grow her strength ever again. She won't be able to improve her lesser self in the coming years anymore. She won't see Elsa anymore. She won't be spending another day with her, arguing over nonsense and addressing her morbid tendencies.

There's _nothing_ coming for her anymore. Everything she knew is now cut off from her. Going on any further will reward her absolutely _nothing. _No more opportunities. No more future. No more growth. No more tomorrow. No more another second. _NOTHING._

"Mister….." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the deafening silence of the Court made it audibly clear as a normal volume. The hollowness of her voice is palpable, "…Am I really dead?"

"Without a doubt, you are _dead_." There was no mercy in his words and his detachment never broke. "And just like me, there is _nothing _significantly meaningful in the short life you lived."

She didn't know what she was expecting when she asked that even though she had all the evidences. To hear it so bluntly, factually and without hesitation in any way struck her deeply than realizing it on her own would. Her head bowed, solemn. Her head had a slight tremble as the tears flowed out of her eyes. Eventually, the _futility _of going on struck her down like poison. Her legs crumbled, collapsing on her knees and hands, the small crack on the dam rupturing, releasing the overflow of her tears and dripping to the stone floors. She didn't wail, only sobbed, a hiccup and a hitch of her shoulders, but the anguish is still the same.

She didn't know if the Host stopped for her sakes or simply went on without her. She's fine either way.

Not like it _matters_ anyway.

But even so, she wanted at least somebody to comfort her. Consoling words or even a hand on her shoulder, she won't act proud like she did in the Living World to deny any of it. She'll accept it, all of it. She needed someone….someone….someone….

"Elsa…."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Bodies littered the entire clearing looked over by the slowly rising sun; lolling tongues, spilt entrails, puddles of blood, dismembered limbs, broken bones, some recently dead, some rotting days ago, some from his own hands, some from Mother's handiwork the night when Viandegroc and Ram brought Rem back to the village. An oddly consistent detail that could be seen when looked closely was that most of the ulgarm are missing a single digit from their paws.

"Tch." And it happened to be the most impossible part to find in terms of compatibility and symmetry in many senses of the word, Emurdol found out.

He sat on the center of the massacre zone, his seat elevated thanks to the body pile beneath his skeletal rear. His work left his face, hands and chest splattered with blood, taking him back to the state he was in before being brought back to the mansion. In his skeletal grasp was a brown-skinned hand that wouldn't be out of place in a little girl's arm if it was still attached.

Rebuilding the bones of a hand is one thing, rebuilding the flesh is a different matter. It already suffered necrosis and rendered incapable of being restored. The tree that landed on it must have expunged out needed amounts of blood that could have preserved it in stasis. Unlucky girl. Then again, Souls like Mother are not one for mercy. Making things worse for her victims than it already had is not above her.

Thanks to that, he had to practically start over from scratch, skinning the hand all the way to the bone. The flesh is dead but it's reusable as a good base. Any Priest of the Serpent could handle the raw reconstruction of flesh but rebuilding _someone else's_, especially when it's not one of their family members outside of themselves is a completely different story. The fact that he had to make it _symmetrical _made the task more daunting than it already is.

Emurdol is no master of the flesh compared to his retired seniors but he tried anyway. On the bright side, flesh is very malleable in the right conditions so it's easy to morph its size appropriately. Besides, he's had different ideas on his blueprints instead of the standard design of a little girl's hand.

Searching for components took a whole afternoon and the entire evening, and dawn is just on the horizon. An army of skeletons brought a great haul that gave him large quantities of what he needed. Witchbeast fingers, claws, teeth, bones, ligaments, muscles, tendons, and a slight composition of the Alpha's anatomy that allowed it to compress its mass mysteriously. Studying the component took only an hour and a half, a little bit different from the ones that are just like it in Pandemonium.

With a sizable amount of his blood now inside the dismembered hand, his eyes flashed green and brown fingers twitched, twitched a little more before fully flexing, moving in accordance to his will. Partially. Its algorithm is similar to artificial skeletons or the reanimated dead.

Resting it above his skeletal hand, he traced his left thumb over the small palm. Smooth and delicate, without wrinkles and fresh, soft when pushed but secretly packed with immense muscle structure. The fingers closed around his thumb, tightly as if it didn't want his touch to leave. He wasn't sure if that's the hand's doing or his own subconsciousness but he somehow felt warm on the inside. A forgotten and uncomfortable feeling, brings back bad memories too.

His eyes flashing green again, the fingers uncurled and sprouted out long claws from the fingertips, composed of the teeth and claws of the witchbeasts he harvested. He watched as they turn from large needles into half-sized cutting knives, then simple sharp and pointy fingernails before morphing into ivory hooks. He blinked and the hand is normal again. Curling the fingers into a fist, a small spike of ivory sprouted out in-between knuckles, its extra-length hidden underneath the skin of the backhand as it bulged from the surface before the stake retracted and disappeared into the fleshy depths. The final trick, the knuckles and the second joint of the fingers bulged into bony spikes, promising more than a bruise when it strikes somebody. Just like Mother's.

He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. A satisfying result. Witchbeast physiology truly have exploitable quirks, the Alpha more so for making these many weapons easy to compress within a small vessel. Include the fact that they are _inherently_ evil and contribute _nothing _to the environment, he has all the leeway to do whatever he wished with them as he pleased without any sort of consequence. More research and discovery opportunities await him, knowledge for the Order of the Serpent.

Just to be sure: as the hand reverted to its original form, he gave a witchbeast femur to its grasp and watched as the brown fingers bulged, the ivory it held cracking, creaking, shattering—

_Snap!_

—the femur is bent in half by nothing but its pure grip strength, and it took only two seconds too.

_Perfect_. He nodded. If he ever plans to make adjustments, the malleability of flesh will make it all simple. 4 hours of meticulous work well-rewarded.

A snap of his left fingers and the Life in the hand is sapped away, sending it into stasis thanks to his blood running through its veins.

Standing up and turning away from the rising sun, he jumped off the body pile and landed on a blackened patch of dry blood before heading off to the edge of the clearing, the brown hand clutched close to his chest. Several seconds later, every dead body in the clearing rose up to their feet in rickety movements, still witchbeast bodies mobile once more as they followed after him, leaving behind their loose entrails and dismembered limbs along the way. All that's left of the clearing are scattered dog parts and a giant smudge of black.

The Necromagus had different thoughts instead of the risen dead behind him as he treaded through the forest: _Hungry. _Despite his feast yesterday, it still wasn't enough. At this point, he might as well eat a woodland creature raw, bland but still nutritious at the right areas. The release of the Shade deprived him of so much. He's only thankful that it didn't affect his vast mana pool.

He flicked his hand towards a tree trunk, a fang of bone ejecting from his palm and a squirrel that tried to climb up a tree is impaled in the head.

_Bite-sized….well, it'll do._

Plucking the dead creature off the tree along his stride, letting its pinned head get torn off in the process, he began skinning it with his skeletal hand.

"Brother."

And the _Idiot _who initiated the Shade's fucking release presents himself as soon as he was at a certain distance. He hasn't even eaten yet. Despite his unfortunate turn of events, he continued walking and skinning the critter, pointedly ignoring the creature of conjoined flesh as he walked past it.

"Just to let you know, the Little One is now vulnerable."

The small pelt of the squirrel now removed, he took a bite on the side of its belly, blood spurting out of the opening made by his pointy teeth.

"I also prepared the tub as well."

He froze mid-chew, still walking but waiting to see if he's still not done talking.

"Don't worry. I didn't use any of the potions. I made a new batch using the instruments you left behind."

_Good_. He returned to chewing before swallowing it, taking a moment to savor the aftertaste of blood running all over his mouth before he gnawed out the guts.

"I also had the skeletons gather up water for her bath. We don't have any towels with us, however, so I would suggest you give them the fire specialty. I washed her clothing as well, but I could do nothing for the shreds and rips it has."

Rolling his tongue inside his mouth to separate the bones from the flesh, he swallowed the latter before spitting out the former. He took the last final bite, ripping off the left leg before the bloody chunk is thrown over his shoulder and into the open maw of an undead witchbeast. The sound of bones snapping erupted from his and the dog's mouth. _Still hungry._

"I would go and hunt for the coming feast but the skeletons you provided aren't suitable for such a task. I need a more…efficient design."

He snapped his skeletal fingers and one of the witchbeasts behind him exploded after a few seconds of its body bloating, its skeleton jumping out of the burst of flesh and blood before morphing into a skeletal prowler, the lethal weapons in its bloody jaws, claws and stilted feet ready to be used.

"Lastly, I found Mama."

This time, he did turn to properly face Viandegroc, eye to eye with a humanoid Flesh Golem, an abomination of 15 witchbeast bodies merged together, coated with nothing but sinews and muscle. A blood-colored monstrosity. Eye sockets full of white, no pupils filling the empty space. A set of canine teeth adorning the mouth, and _behind the set of teeth _was his lips and a functional tongue inside. A slightly long neck containing vocal chords that led to small shoulders, which led to thin, elongated arms that reached the ankles and ended in long red fingers. His torso could barely pass off as anything close to human, a deformed trunk of witchbeast flesh clumped together, something to keep hands, legs and the head attached instead of something to contain the internal organs. His legs are the only parts that were proportionately human but it ended into webbed three-toed feet.

The extra detail that made him distinct from being a cheap attempt to emulate humanity were the miniature extra arms placed beneath the first set, exposed finger bones holding a certain black bone dagger close to the chest.

A vessel of flesh and an anchor for the soul. The bone dagger _is _made from Viandegroc's skull and spine after all. A structure that was not unlike Mother but simpler. Bones are far more formidable.

"I found her deep in the mountains southwest of here." His set of teeth moved up and down as the lips behind them shifted to form words fluently and with clarity. "A very verdant field, overlooked by what seemed to be a cenotaph atop a hill made out of a large magic stone. The Spirits there have interesting stories to tell, so she was there listening to everything. It is quite a distance from here, just to tell you."

He sighed through his nose, now looking away and onwards to the cave Mother once dug out 4 days ago, having collapsed and flooded in from the catastrophes but now reconstructed as it served as a nice hideout for his times of needed privacy. It's located deep in the witchbeast forest too, so that makes any random straggler unlikely to come anywhere close to it.

It took nearly a whole hour of walking before finally finding the opening into the earth, located just next to an uprooted tree. Instead of a straight-drop, there is a slope that led downwards to the interior for the convenience of any new minions he might create within, same goes for the 'welcomed' sort of folk.

Entering the murky darkness alongside Viandegroc and the reanimated dogs, away from the shine of the morning sun, his night-vision now put into play, he traversed the recreated cavern, eyeing the ribs that curved against the walls and the giant spinal column the lined the middle of the ceiling. The soil around them once wet from the super typhoon are now dry with the help of the Fire Golem's mere presence, and there are new passageways thanks to a small squad of bruisers carving them for him, serving unique purposes each.

With a point of his finger, the pack of undead witchbeasts took off ahead, making no sound except for their footfalls that created a slight tremble on the ground before they disappeared from sight, stuffing themselves in a certain section of the cave that served as a meat storage. It will create a foul smell overtime, but it will be a nostalgic smell. _Just like home_, he will certainly say. Mortal diseases aren't an impediment to his people too.

Passing through several other passageways later, they reached a smaller corridor that could fit a person like a door compared to everything else which seemed to be wide enough to accommodate a simple Rock Golem but twice the size. And within contained barrels of ivory filled with water placed against the wall, a table made from expanded bone with experimental instruments atop it, recently used, and in the center of the room was a perfectly-shaped block of earth that rose from the soil with his rarely-used earth spells. Atop that block was a small white body of a little girl, sprawled out, grimy, and naked, a glowing bone wand lying atop her broken chest. Mother indeed left her mark on the little one; bruised, lacerated, deformed, and missing a right hand. It's been more than 12 hours since her passing but the flesh still refused to rot or even suffer necrosis.

"Shall we clean her up first? Or should we proceed to her revivification?"

He turned to the oval bone tub in the corner, filled nearly to the brim with swirling red liquid and giving off a bitter scent of iron and something indescribable. He pursed his lips. He truly doesn't know why he's going through with this. He didn't even plan to do this before. Why did he suddenly grow the heart to be doing so now? She's even the one who caused the entire witchbeast bullshit in the first place.

He sighed, clicking his tongue. He'd be damned if this is the suppressed anger influencing his decisions, giving himself an opportunity to strike back at the one responsible for ripping his throat out.

He picked up the wand from the girl's chest, feeling the tinges of grief from it.

"Revivification, then." Long red fingers wormed underneath the small broken body before being lifted up from the earthen block as if she weighed like a stick. With care, she is carried over to the tub and gently lowered down into the red liquid, her little frame fitting inside the oval container quite well as she floated.

The red waters began to bubble at the presence of wounds on the girl's body, reacting like a dense swarm of piranhas seeing a bloody hunk of meat and diving in for the feeding frenzy. In this case, it's the opposite effect. The liquid searched out her numerous injuries and its potent mixture ravaged them to health. Sizzling began to hiss from the tub and the subtle sounds of bones reconnecting with a snap emanated from within, an occurrence he assisted with his own magic by merely angling them in the correct position and letting the healing liquid do the rest.

While it did, Emurdol held her stumpy right wrist away from the healing liquid. With the brown hand in his skeletal grip, the wand held in-between his teeth, he carefully attached the two cross-sections together as symmetrically as possible, both severed halves of nerves, veins, bones, tissue and other parts sticking together. With a glow of trepidation in his eyes, he slowly lowered the arm down to the red water and it sizzled wildly, giving off steam as the gaps closed and eventually accomplished full reconnection. Placing his bony fingertips on the girl's chest, he slowly pushed the little one down and submerged her to the bottom, disappearing in the veil of red.

Pulling his skeletal hand out, dripping red on the earthy floors, he passed the wand to Viandegroc's red fingers before walking out of the circular cavern, off to go hunting for something big to eat like doe, the prowler that waited outside following after him silently.

Turning his eyes away from the place Emurdol disappeared to, he faced the tub and knelt before it, holding the edge with one hand, his bent elbow reaching very far behind him while the other hand hovered the wand above the still-bubbling healing liquid, swirling it round and round, barely an inch of space away from the rippling surface of red.

"Now then…." The sockets of the skull of the wand glowed bright, illuminating the cavern in ghostly green, shining the malignant grin his malformed face could ever manage, "Let us begin your corporal discipline, my sweet little Niece."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Seconds felt like hours. Months felt like days. Years felt like weeks. Minutes felt like a moment. Eternity felt so short. Short felt like forever.

Darkness. Nothing but darkness. Imperceptible. Invisible. Murky. Devouring. Immaterial. Intangible. _Nothing_.

Nothing for her to see. Nothing for her to smell. Nothing for her to hear. Nothing for her to taste. Nothing for her to touch. No one to meet. No one to talk to. No one to listen to. No one to hold. No one to hold her. No one there. Nothing there. Nothing. No one. Nothing. No one. Nothing. No one. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. No one. No one. Nothing. No one. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothi—

"Oh…"

Voice. Sound. Audio. Acoustic. Auditory. Aural. Voice. Vocal chords. Inflexion. Thoughts. Words. Language. Humming. Speaking. Voicing. Exerting. Understood. Perceived. Received. Sensed. Experienced. Aware of. Suffered. _Existed._

**Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence. Existence.**

**EXISTENCE.**

Meili snapped her head up from the arms that rested her knees, tearful eyes finding **_EXISTENCE_**in front of her and she literally scrambled to her feet as she sprinted towards **_SOMEONE_**, hands stretched out greedily and slammed her entire being into **SOMEONE'S** **SOMETHING**. She meant to hurt herself doing this. She meant to get punished for this. She meant to feel doing this. Her entire body is bare of clothing her white skin exposed to make _every_ fiber of flesh she had in her body FEEL this **SOMETHING**. She bit on **SOMEONE'S** **SOMETHING**, tasting **SOMETHING** in her mouth. She clutched **SOMETHING** in a death grip, feeling the sensation of **SOMETHING**. She heard **SOMETHING** whenever she rubbed herself violently into **SOMEONE'S SOMETHING**. She was hurt by **SOMETHING**.

She felt **SOMETHING **hold on to her shoulders and gently pushed her—

She never knew true terror.

"NO! NO! DON'T PUSH ME AWAY! PLEASE! I WON'T LET GO! I DON'T WANNA! DON'T MAKE ME LET GO! MAKE ME STAY!" She had never screamed so much like this, not even when her hand was crushed did she try to break her voice like this. Her wretched self brought her down, lower than even the most desperate beggar. The entirety of her self-worth and pride is gone. "I HATE IT HERE! GET ME AWAY FROM HERE! IT'S DARK AND LONELY AN-AND SCARY AND QUIET! I-I'LL DO ANYTHING! I'LL BE YOUR SLAVE! I'LL EVEN LET YOU DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO ME! EVERYTHING! ANYTHING YOU WANT! I'LL DO IT! JUST DON'T LEAVE ME BY MYSELF!"

Poke her. Touch her. Hold her. Embrace her. Cuddle her. Kiss her. Bite her. Lick her. Grip her. Fondle her. Violate her. Humiliate her. Beat her. Torture her. Tear her. Rip her. Mutilate her. Yell at her. Speak to her. Whisper to her. Be with her. **_EXIST_** to her. She'll accept it all, anything—everything, so long as she's not left alone by herself ever again.

"You pitiful woman of beauty and possibility." **SOMEONE'S** voice reached her ears, soft and silky smooth. It was the most beautiful sound. "This lowly servant deserves not the sight of your tears, so please weep no more."

**SOMEONE** wrapped **SOMEONE'S SOMETHING** around her and lifted her up from the ground, embraced tightly close to **SOMEONE'S SOMETHING**, stroking the back of her head while her face is buried into **SOMEONE'S SOMETHING**, crying a whole lake into the **SOMETHING**, soaking it well. She relished every single sensation **SOMEONE** gave her. There was comfort, security, warmth, consolation, care, pity and _company_. Company she desperately hungered for.

The violation of time played itself out once more, and she was spoiled a minute of attention that felt like an eternity. An eternity that felt like a moment, or maybe a whole hour. She will never know how long she kept herself in **SOMEONE'S SOMETHING** but she exploited the rules of time in the Court to savor **EXISTENCE** with impunity.

Eternity after eternity, perception and sanity returned to Meili over time. And things became much clearer.

**SOMETHING** became robes of dark brown.

**SOMETHING** became wide sleeves.

**SOMETHING** became leather gloves.

**SOMETHING** became leather cloth.

**SOMETHING **became arms.

**SOMETHING** became chest.

**SOMETHING **became fabric.

**SOMETHING **became rustling of cloth.

**SOMETHING** became an ambiguous form.

**SOMEOME** became the man.

**SOMEONE** became He.

**SOMEONE** became His.

She felt him lower her down, her bare feet touching _nothing_ before she found herself kneeling in the space in-between the man's bent legs, resting his rear on his calves while maintaining his tight embrace around her. Rubbing her face on the leather cloth on his chest to wipe her snot and tears, she slowly looked up and looked at his face. His robes came with a tight hood that hid the back of his head, ears and scalp, which a wide-brimmed hat rested on, and his face was nowhere to be seen. In its place, however, was a mask of unknown material with round mirroring lenses for eyes, reflecting her gaze of wonder. A black crow mask, which the long and curving beak nearly touched her nose when he turned to face her.

**EXISTENCE** became the Lowly Servant who **EXISTED**.

"You're beautiful…." Meili breathed, meaning every word. Her heart burned with love and desire as she looked at him, drinking his every detail with her olive-green eyes. His bizarrely unwrinkled wear. His scentless aura. His emotionless gaze. His statue-like poise. He was _intoxicating_. "Are you an Angel?"

"No. I am but a humble servant, as significant as an arm. What I do is not worthy of your admiration." Her cheeks flushed just by listening to him. So silky smooth and musical to the ears.

Her hand reached for his mask, white digits caressing the dark material. Smooth to the touch and solid against her fingers like glass, especially his beak. She wants to see his face. What beautiful features he must have hidden behind it. She grabbed the curving protrusion and pulled.

"Please." Her wrist was gently grabbed and moved away by a leather glove. The sensation set her heart on fire. "This lowly servant does not deserve to be gazed upon by your eyes."

"But I want to see…." She said in a breathy tone, still persisting despite her hand being held back from doing what she wanted.

"Let it not be about me." His other hand took her other wrist and put both her palms together as if to pray before his gloved hand gripped them in a lock. "It is about you. You need _help_ and I can give it."

Her elation could not be described for his kindness. He's going to save her from this black hell. No more emptiness. No more loneliness. No more _Nothing_. "You're going to take me away from this place?"

"By the decree of my Master, I shall." Holding on to her clasped hands with both his own, he pulled her up to her feet while he bended forward to make sure she isn't pulled up from the 'ground', being taller than anyone she ever met. As he did, the Court finally gave way to **EXISTENCE** in the form of a wave that expanded from him and overwrote _everything._

It was _Heaven_ itself.

Cold wind.

Grassy ground.

The song of night creatures.

The light of the crescent moon.

Rustling trees.

The smell of nature.

Whistling in the air.

**EXISTENCE** was everywhere_._

Meili was in ecstasy for her return to the evening forest. She chuckled, she cried, she quivered, she skipped in place—the only thing stopping her from running all over the place, laughing and screaming for the entire world to hear was the grip the Lowly Servant still had on her.

"I consider everywhere to be my home and I sleep wherever I can, so it will be easy for me to reach the hands of those who need my _help_, but I have a particular fancy for places of green." His right arm went around her till it rested behind her rear and she was lifted up to his chest, practically making her feel as tall as a small tree. He kept his grip on her hands still. "It is peaceful and healthy. No one suffers here." As he began to walk while carrying her, renewing the sensation of _mobility _in Meili, he was uncannily steady. She wasn't rocking from his footsteps, in fact it didn't look like he was walking at all. He seemed to be floating across the ground.

"Yeah…." After staring at the ground pass underneath her for likely half an hour, she raised her gaze up and fixed it on the environment, some other times she turned it to him, noting his other details. His head seemed to move along with his body, as if his neck is incapable of rotating. But when focused, it remain fixed on the object of interest with snake-like intensity until he passed it by, like the seemingly-glowing blue flower that kept showing up every hour.

…..

….….….

….….….….….

Meili began to frown for the first time, the sensation of confusion and anxiety filling her heart once more. The moon barely moved from the sky. The winds never stopped blowing. The temperature of the air didn't change. She could even recognize the songs of animals and the rustling of the trees _repeating _itself. A pattern of the trees was visible, the grass had a rhythm and even _his _movements are consistent.

"Um, are we…..looping?"

The sheer fluidity of his movements made it impossible for her to realize that he _stopped_ walking either a second ago or long ago. And now, his beaked face fixed a look on her. This time, she was seeing him like a human for the first time. He created a ghastly image with his mask. His emotionless gaze unnerved her. And the way he held her made her feel _imprisoned_.

"You realized? Good." He set her down to stand on her own, and she failed to do so, not because her legs were weak but because the sensation of standing again overwhelmed her as well as the feeling of the grass on her bare feet. "To help you, your sanity must return, and I did so by reintegrating you to Reality."

"Wha…?"

"The doubt and anxiety you feel is a sign that it is successful." He continued, still as a statue and his tone of voice consistent in its silky smooth octave and empty of emotions, just like the Host. "That means I can proceed."

She blinked as she looked up to his tall form, not knowing what he's going on about, "Proceed to what?"

With movements as elegant as swirling steam of a hot beverage, he crouched before her and wrapped both his leather glove hands around her little neck, the grip gentle and not constricting. She was confused rather than apprehensive for this and did not resist. She can see her own face in the lenses of his mask, his beak pointed down but his gaze clearly on her underneath the brim of his heat. "Your Rehabilitation."

Then he pushed her down on the ground, strangling her. Oxygen is cut off, her throat starting to tighten destructively, panic and fear came back to her in a vengeance, and it drove her limbs to action. She kicked against his chest, she clawed at his sleeves, she squirmed—every form of resistance was useless. "Do not resist. I am _helping _you." He hid stone-like strength underneath his robes, and sociopathic cruelty in his mask. His voice _never _changed, even when she could feel her neck bone beginning to crack inside his hold.

Tears escaped out of her eyes. Her vision was starting to darken and her flailing limbs were losing their strength alongside her consciousness, and the Lowly Servant simply stared at her with his mirroring gaze, giving her one last look of her crying, gritting, dying, helpless and pathetic self as he stared. Stared. Stared. Stared. Stared. Stared. Stared. Stared. **Stared. Stared. Stared. Stared. Stared. Stared. STARED. STARED. STARED. STARED.**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

His outer teeth and inner teeth illuminated by the glow of the wand, his delighted grin stretched even wider when he heard a muffled thud from the red depth of the tub, the ruckus causing the red waters to ripple and wave. The green glow flashed like a burst of light, setting light into the small cavern for the briefest instant before returning to a dim glow, the healing liquid steadying after a whole minute.

"Do not return just yet, Sweet Niece."

He swirled the wand over the surface once more, purposely complicating the resurgence of Meili's Soul. Brother expects change, and the Court will do their very best to make that happen. Viandegroc had always been the one who carried the scourge, now he's giving the others a chance to use it. If he is honest with himself, simple viewings of consequences are starting to get _simple_. Not really boring as it is still satisfying to do but too _simple._ Something raw needs to be added now, and he's very certain that their design will break newcomers harder as they had continually insisted before.

He can only wonder how the Little One will come out as in the Aftermath.

"Your Homecoming Party is still not ready."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

**From one small nick. Just from a single nick of an insignificant little knife made of black bone, he was brought down to the ground with _poison_.**

**He thought he had made himself perfect, perfect to the point that he could help _anyone_, unimpeded by human weakness that would obstruct him from his everlasting mission to save those in need of a hand that shall pull them up from the pit of suffering. He prolonged his age. He converted his sustenance to nuts and vapors. He even made his entire body strong, incapable of breaking and wilting to the elements and violence. It could even regenerate itself as if he had drank a high-potency elixir of healing the instant he has a wound.**

**And he _fell _to poison. He fell without grace, ceremony and dignity. His wounds refused to close and his body felt like it was about to crumble from even the slightest movements. His robes were torn to shreds and he threw away his mask before he drowned himself in it due to bleeding from all the openings on his head.**

**His death was not quick and immediate. His once-invincible body has now been rendered mortal thanks to the poison but it didn't kill him immediately, and his broken defenses made it possible for his suffering to last forever until the passing of a whole month where he was incapable of regenerating himself after what has been done to him: he was thrown to the army of the dead to be subjected to the manners of cruelty they could manage. They kept trying to break his body apart, thrown left and right, yanked around from minion to minion, riddling on his impervious but mortal body with their every being. And when he caved in, it turned into an orgy of brutal revelry. They first took away his eyes. Then his teeth. Then his tongue. Ears and scalp afterwards. And when they regenerated, they took away the replacements as well. When they wanted his arms, they took them. When they wanted his legs, they took them too. When they opened him up and spilled his guts, they scattered it amongst themselves. When it closed and his organs regrew themselves, they did it again. They fought over their claims, scraps included. And when they failed to overpower their competition, they turned their lifeless eyes to him, taking whatever piece they could grab from him. They scrambled over each other just to merely scratch him, and they were tireless.**

**He was made their toy. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second he spent alive, he suffered. They never stopped. They never stopped. They never stopped. They never stopped. They never stopped. They never stopped. They never stopped. They never stopped. They never stopped. They never stopped.**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Terror. Unending terror clouded her mind when she recovered herself and found herself alone in the false forest. The Lowly Servant wasn't there anymore with his hands around her neck but that didn't reassure her in the least. To be in his shoes when he met his horrible fate, to experience every lick of pain and shock he went through under the hands of zombies, skeletons, golems, reanimated, Wild Souls, and other monstrosities, it was a suffering she could not fathom for anyone to take, even for a whole day.

So she ran. Ran and ran and ran and ran and ran—she had no direction to head to. She simply ran. She doesn't even know _what _she is running from. No matter where she went, the forest kept coming back. The same tree. The same expanse of grass. The same sky. The same flower. The same _everything. _Yet she ran anyway. Even when her body began breaking apart from overexertion, reduced to crawling on the soil to _nowhere_, she still tried to escape from something that _already_ happened to _someone else_.

Then a green fog enshrouded her.

….….

….….….

….….….….

Why did she run? What was she running for, anyway? That was just a flash of the Lowly Servant's death. Cruel and excruciating, and very traumatic indeed but it's not like it happened to her. His screams are still ringing in her head and the faces of those monsters are filling the darkness of her vision whenever she closes her eyes but it'll pass.

How did she end up on a large bed with fur coverings in the first place? Wasn't she running around the forest just a minute ago? Looking around her, there doesn't seem to be anything to see except a dense cloud of green that's _everywhere_. It smelt pungent but strangely calming…..

"Welcome to my chambers, Sweetheart…."

A voice glazed with honey tickled her eardrums and desire burned in her heart. A second later, a shadow loomed over her form, indicating the presence of a bedmate she didn't know was there. An impossibly soft hand caressed her shoulder blade, stroking it up and down, slowly reaching down to the back of her waist and even further, and Meili's breathing became heavy instantaneously, shuddering from it. It felt as if her nerves had become a dozen times more sensitive, and every touch made her skin crawl with pleasure. Her cheeks began to flush even brighter, her eyes glazing over from the hypersensitive reception of her flesh, and she strangely began desiring for _contact_.

As if the person molesting her had read her mind, the hand held her under the arm and flipped her small body over gently, the movement alone making her moan sensually, allowing her to look up at who hovered over her and she was left breathless. She was the most beautiful woman she ever met, overpowering even Elsa. High cheek bones with full lips, thin eyebrows above inviting dark-blue eyes. Heart-shaped, a flawless structure and skin unmarred. She had long fiery red hair, redder than it should be possible even by human standards, and they floated above her as if she was underwater.

Before Meili could look over the rest of her, that impossibly soft hand held her cheek and her breath hitched, her heart throbbing strangely. "For a little one, you are beautiful….you will make hearts burn when you come of age…." Listening to the gorgeous woman's voice felt like her life depended on it, so she did, drinking every word she heard as if it were the only thing that kept her going since she was born. "What is your name?" She asked in a purr, staring deeply into her eyes, noses touching and their lips barely an inch apart.

Her lips curled, fighting the urge to kiss the woman with all the little amount of self-control she had left. "Me-Meili…"

"Meeeeiiilliiiii…" The woman drawled out her name, testing her name as delicately as possible. Then Meili felt a second hand of immense softness slide underneath her waist, lifting her up from the bed and bringing her close to her chest, her massive chest. They were bigger than Elsa's or even her own _head_. "….I am….Sally…..the Supreme Corruption of Gluttony…."

Bulging veins. Wide eyes. Black scleras. Slit-pupils. Split cheeks. Needle-like teeth. 3 tongues. Living hair.

Meili's eyes bulged at what she had just seen, wondering if it had been an illusion. For the briefest of moments, she had watched Sally's face being replaced by a horrifying demon of pure hunger and want, staring at her as if she was prey that got caught in the honey trap and was seconds away from heading into the bite.

"You look rattled, Sweetheart…" Half-lidded eyes stared at her greedily and wantonly, devoid of _any _concern despite her words. "….let me fix that…." A green cloud blew out of her breath as she neared her lips towards her cheek, giving it a chaste kiss before giving another to the crook between her neck and shoulder. Then she began _sucking _it.

Meili's gasp caused her to inhale the green cloud around her face and she immediately felt that something was wrong.

She couldn't move. Her limbs were limp. Her tongue was loose. Her neck couldn't hold up her head. Her legs aren't even functioning anymore. She was a puppet without strings in Sally's grasp, sagging like a boned fish, and she was left completely to the woman's mercy.

There was something wet lapping against her flesh inside Sally's mouth…._three of them_. They were _inside _her.

She wants to run. She has to run. She must run. Why isn't she running away? Why isn't she moving? Why is she only shaking? Why is she _enjoying _it?

Her eyes were the only ones capable of movement, and they leaked tears out of what's happening. There was _something _inside of her and she doesn't know what it is. Inside her skin. Inside her stomach. Inside her eyes. Inside her hands. Inside her feet. Inside her arms. Inside her legs. Inside her head. Inside her mouth. Inside her veins. Inside her lungs. Inside her tongue. Inside her teeth. Inside her bones. Inside her back. Inside her waist. Inside her womanhood. Inside her brain. Inside her–It was _violating _her.

The woman had begun squeezing her, relaxing her grip, then tightening it again with a grip that could bruise her, rubbing Meili's small body against her own with every lick of fiber she had, her slender arms around her waist and back gripping her with strength like iron bars, even her _hair _had started wrapping around her extremities, waist and neck. Smooth as the finest silk, as sharp as garrote wires, the thinnest bundles of strands easily cutting open her flesh. Sally's breathing started getting heavy, a lusty moan escaping her in certain intervals, and the green cloud kept exhuming out of her mouth, enshrouding the two of them in a blinding haze more and more.

Crushed. She was getting crushed. Her spine cracked. Her ribs cracked. Her limbs were bending backwards. They cracked. They cracked. Cracking. Cracking. Snapping. Snapping. Snapping. Snapping. Snapping. Snapping. Snapping. Snapping. Snapping. Tightening. Tightening. Tightening. Tightening. Tightening. Tightening. Tightening. Tightening. Tightening. Violating. Violating. Violating. Violating. Violating. Violating. Violating. Violating. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

**Her vapors were all outdone, thanks to the multiple holes excavated by a wyrmm that was killed at the wrong place and the wrong time before the man even knew where she hid. Strong winds were blowing outside, and while the ventilation never affected the Smoky Bull, it gave the Pale One the most unlikely advantage she never thought was possible. Her lair has distorted levels of oxygen and the new openings made it worse. The explosives he carried ended up being too destructive, causing a massive cave-in, killing more than a few of the captives she had with her and crushing one of her legs. The headless black skeleton that was with him severed her arms while she was screaming in pain, separating her from her pipe.**

**He was right on her afterwards, pinning her down with a single hand and his multiple-legged lower half. His eyes were bloodshot and cried red. His mouth bled endlessly. His right arm was mangled horribly. There's even a large chunk of meat missing from his side. No doubt she had decimated his lungs when he breathed in the vapors accidently and gave her the opportunity to do whatever she wants with it. Despite all these grievous wounds, he was still moving as if he only had scratches.**

**And he _vomited _on her. Disgusting green bile poured down on her face, and it _burned_. It went in her eyes, mouth, and nose, and it _burned _her. Her eyes dissolved first. Then her tongue. And then multiple sinuses have melted. Then bitter liquid was forced down her throat, _restoring _her damaged parts. Right after she was stabbed in the stomach, a horrible sensation of true pain engulfed her from head to toe. Poison. This time, she could not be aroused by it. Something was _eating _her from the inside. There was something inside her and it wasn't one of her vapors. Instead of caressing her insides, it was trying to _break _her apart. And when her eyes seemed to have restored, seeing only blurs and no clear image, he vomited on her again, burning her face once more.**

**Her screams could be heard everywhere in her underground lair. She struggled, resisted, but the poison ate away her strength to the point where she could only writhe. Without eyes and knowing only pain ad infinitum, she could only _beg _for a quick death that will never be given to her as she's force fed an elixir of healing, vomited on, feeling her insides get eaten from the inside and repeat.**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The Little One's getting livelier, Viandegroc thought. The red waters kept rippling and waving, no longer having a moment to repose due to the body beneath continually convulsing every few dozen seconds.

As someone outside the Court, he could only wonder who was the second person to carry the scourge. He knew William would be the first to do it, as he is all too eager to _help_ at the drop of a hat. In this case, it is 'help break the girl'. Getting eaten by your own family members or getting ravaged by poisons and an undead rat while getting vomited on, Viandegroc wouldn't know which is worse enough to outmatch the cruelty of the death the Supreme Corruption of Pride had. Unlike all of them, Viandegroc was the first to die by Emurdol's hand and his death is the most peaceful compared to all of them, bleeding to death from a stab to the neck. He wouldn't be able to sympathize their pain.

"One could only wonder why the Mighty King would not want to show his death to you, Sweet Niece." He droned sarcastically, feeling the third and final person taking their turn. The red waters might swish wildly due to the mental trauma it caused to the person before death.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

**His mother ate his hand, biting off several fingers before eating it whole. His elder sister had opened his stomach and pulled out his intestines. His little sister tried to take a larger portion of it from her, contradicting her usually sharing self. His father ripped off his entire arm from the shoulder, a testament of his great strength before chowing down on the meatier part of it. His little brother ripped out his kidneys, both of them. His big brother, the one he admired the most among all his siblings, ripped off his legs, taking more than half an hour to accomplish it.**

**This cannot be. They were his family. They were still _conscious_, they should have their freewill back to them since he no longer has a grip on them, and yet they do _this_? Why aren't they defending him? Why aren't they trying to save him? Hasn't he spared them from being used as tools and instead be treated like actual family!? Didn't they spend their time together like actual families? Didn't they love each other!? He loved them, didn't he!? Why aren't they loving him back when they have the chance to express it for real!? They should be grateful! He may have been a bastard but he never punished them for throwing him out of the household! He was a loving son! He only wanted to be part of the family! That's why he's done those things! Because they wouldn't let him despite how he begged in front of their gates! What more could he ask for!? They should have loved him! If they had only loved him despite being the son of a maidservant and a nobleman, they wouldn't have ended up like the way they are! It's their fault! It's all their fault!**

**The multi-legged Mastermind of this falling-out stood at the side, wearing a dispassionate countenance underneath his hood and cloak, crossing his bone-covered arms in front of his bone-cuirass as he watched the feasting darkly but satisfyingly. His minion, a jet-black skeleton that was taller than him and loosely holding a battle axe at its side, carried the same emotionless gaze in its sockets that contained blue pinpoints.**

**No. It wasn't their fault. It was them! It was actually them! They made his family turn against him! They turned his subjects against him! It was all because of them! They took everything! And why!? Why did they do such a thing!? What has he done to them!? He barely even knew they both existed, so why!? WHY!? WHY!? WHY!? WHY!? WHY!? WHY!?**

**Even as his broken throat barely managed to express those questions, there apparently was no use speaking to them. When the last of his life has been eaten away, they never said anything. They just watched. Watching until his entire lower half below the torso was eaten away.**

**And when his consciousness finally left him, the last thing he saw was an axe falling down on his neck and the world suddenly spinning around.**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He expected right. The recoil was worse than before. The red waters actually sloshed wildly, splashing his misshapen form, a louder thud from the depths and he even saw the Little One's _head _breach out before sinking back down. Being undead, the healing liquid simply dripped down to the soil instead of fixing up his anomalous form.

"Looks like it's time, Sweet Niece."

The glow of the wand now equaling the intensity of 40 bonfires, creating the green illumination that could brighten the entire cavern from this passageway to the whole network, he began formulating the final sequence. No longer waiting for the waters to settle, he simply swirled the wand above the surface once more, but quickly this time.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothin—

"The World belongs to **_Me_**!"

This time, Meili had nothing to offer for that bombastic voice except acknowledgement. She didn't turn to face the source. She knows what's coming. Another episode of horrible deaths for her to experience, every single one brought to them by a single consistent person who had white-hair, pale skin, bone armor, and an apathetic expression, with one instance of the person having horns and a skull face as well as another without a black skeleton at his side and the other instance where he was _talking_.

"And the World defies me **_Not_**!"

This was Hell, she finally realized. The place she deserved for the things she's done in the Living World, killing people, young or old, by the will of the contract signed by someone who wants someone dead. Even if she is friendly with her targets, considering them worthy of remembrance despite their passing, that isn't sufficient payment for any pardon.

"Oh pathetic and broken whelp, be **_Proud_** and **_Glad_**!"

Considering the number of people who are dead and the number of those who are living as well as the number of those they killed, she's going to be familiar with a lot of people and a lot of deaths from here on out.

"**_Rejoice_**, for the Mighty King will formalize the end of your convalescence and shall send you off to the Living!"

A powerful stomp on granite stone occurred right in front of her, a giant boot sending a blasting shockwave at her face, blowing her unbraided blue hair back. She did not flinch nor did her mien shift in any way. She's only waiting for the inevitable. She still had the manners to know who the new acquaintance is, however. She looked up, then further and further up, realizing the immense size of the loud giant man in front of her.

Underneath the simple white tunic that would have been considered too big for any ordinary man left the impression of gigantic muscles. The rolled-up sleeves exposed massive arms of brown calloused flesh that were like tree trunks with the left holding a stylized and ornate axe as if it were a simple stick. His face was the embodiment of authority and power compared to everything else. His expression was fierce, both chiseled and noble at the same time that told stories of battles fought at the front lines and privileges earned from his power. His eyes contained a blazing orange, intense and authoritative, demanding no questions but immediate obedience. His mane was the most remarkable compared to everything else. He had scorching red hair, darker in comparison to Sally's but no less majestic. From the scalp to his chin, it surrounded his face in a rugged circle just like a lion, and it was all he needed to indicate who was the greatest in a room full of kings.

He raised up his axe above his head with both hands, and with a voice that shook her to the very core, he sent his farewells.

"This will be the last you **_DESERVED_**!"

The axe came down and buried itself to her head, through her torso and into the ground, causing a grand earthquake and destroying the very castle he had ruled from since his birth, the mortar unable to withstand the weight of its own structure and crumbling down to the earth. An emulation of the outcome between him and Emurdol when they finally met and fought each other in a glorious and destructive battle that could match a catastrophe.

When the demolition was over, he was the only one standing there, the girl sent off beforehand, having withstood every debris and blocks of stone that fell on him like an indestructible immortal, never flinching no matter how long he was being riddled down by his own fortress.

Releasing a pleased sigh that would have sounded like a growl, he slammed the head of his axe to the pieces of stone, crumbling them to dust and into the earth, sending his anticipations to the girl who was once there, "Be a Daughter worthy of the one who slew the Mighty King."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

And this time, Meili suffered what was very likely a shot of Reality.

She was now in the shoes of those she had killed in her life, with or without Elsa's collaborations. She felt their helplessness, their despair and their pain. She experienced the pain of being ripped apart by witchbeasts, the feeling of having their guts spilling out of their abdomen, and the despair of losing those they cared about to fang and blade.

Not only the ones she killed but she also saw what her actions led to. Some had led to something good but more than most, she brought only suffering to the ones who are barely even involved with the target. Some fell to exploitation, some fell to control, and some fell to a fate even worse than death. All because someone who kept them safe from such fates was murdered by her. Even if she was only carrying out the demands of the contract, all this happened due to _her _hand. Her actions led to nothing but suffering. Suffering that will likely never end till the end of a lifetime.

She knows what suffering is like now, thanks to what happened to her before death and what happened afterwards, being shown the final moments of those who died by the hand of the person who was there by her side before passing on. And she had brought such a thing to others with pure impunity and nonchalance.

She had a short life. She only lived up to 13, and what has she spent that life on? Uselessness. The only thing she knew was killing people with witchbeasts. Was it fulfilling? Did it help anybody? Was it productive? Did she even know herself? She's barely her own person. She emulated Elsa and even the woman knew how to kill. From her hairstyle down to her outward demeanor of seduction. She clung to the woman like a lifeline, and she dared to call herself a living being in that side of life, having _nothing _unique to be her worthy of her own person and accomplishing _nothing _to be worthy of anyone's memory?

She might as well be another witchbeast just like the ones she had under her command.

She left nothing to the world, only a dead body unworthy of remembering, a cheap attempt of being somebody who was older than her, stronger than her, knowing more than her, and having lived a life according to her own wishes better than her. Even the former had encouraged such behavior on Meili, to live according to her own design and never pulled around by anyone except herself. She thought she was already living a life of her own, but apparently she was just a child who knew nothing, pretentiously acting like an adult when she did not even have the maturity to warrant the respect. She was a coward, a weakling, afraid to mold her person into someone worthy of its own respect and copycatted the person who gave her everything in order to achieve that.

How could she be so foolish? How could she live in such a way? Even those whose cruel death she experienced down to the very end had lived lives better than her, existing according to their own design.

"I'm…..sorry….."

At this moment, her regrets spilled out of her lips. She didn't know who she was saying this to. It could be to Elsa, it could to her victims, but in the end, that didn't matter.

She can no longer change what happened. That is something she can do only in the Living World, and she's too late. Her heart broke at her demise and no amount of tears could do justice to express it to the fullest extent.

She left the Living World as nothing but a wasted existence.

At this point, she knew what _real _Hell truly is. Left to the darkness and drawn into her own regrets, knowing she's can do nothing about it.

As the self-loathing consumed her, so did the darkness.

And as the darkness took her, leaving her afloat in the nothingness once again, she saw a Serpent-like Dragon made out of nothing but suns and stars staring at her.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

With finality, the wand finally _touched _the surface of the red waters. Circles expanded from the contact point, and with a last flash of green light, the Soul is finally reintegrated to the vessel of Flesh.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The first struggle was a search for oxygen and she found it when she was suddenly pulled out of a watery surface and then dropped to soft ground. Coughing out liquid out of her lungs and throat, she began heaving the oxygen she needed, uncaring if the taste of it is similar to rotten flesh.

The second struggle was the recognition of her mind to the fact that there were _sensations _all over her body. It burns, it freezes, it tickles, and it hurts. She could breath. She could taste. She could hear. She could smell. She could speak. She could move. She could shake. She could blink. She could feel. She could move her eyes. She could move her head. She could move her mouth. She could move her tongue. She could move her fingers. She could move her hands. She could move her arms. She could move her toes. She could move her feet. She could move her legs.

The third struggle was the _blinding _light of yellow that erupted right in front of her, and she lamely moved her arms to cover her face, making sound on her throat that should have been a yelp but only came out as a wheeze.

"Well….isn't this a treat? The Revivification was a success. Brother will be most proud once he sees you."

It took several dozen seconds for the realization to kick in, and when it did, she felt recognition….

"If you wonder, I am the Host."

….and terror.

"But in truth, I should have been the Supreme Corruption of Lust." A glow of green began overpowering the glow of yellow, and she saw a pair of red three-toed and webbed feet from right beside her. "My name is Viandegroc, the Left Horn of the Dragon. And like you, I have also been brought back to life. But unlike you, I am incomplete. Dead in essence. However, it is not an excuse to not help my family in any way that I can."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

After calming down from her initial terror and confusion, she finally managed to collect herself. If it weren't for the skeletal hand that was creating light in the small cavern with fire, she wouldn't have maintained her composure for too long. Even if the illumination is too weak, barely reaching as far as 2 meters, it's fine by her. She had enough of the darkness, especially after what she's been through because of that skeletal menace and the Nothingness.

It began with a set of exercises to test her body, restoring her range and motion, her dexterity and balance. Trying to stay upright while standing turned out to have become the most difficult feat she ever attempted in this side of Life, even worse than trying to stay upright while _sitting_.

It took a whole 3 hours before she was standing upright as she had used to. It left her sweaty and grimy once more, collapsing on the soil more than a hundred times and caking her naked body with mud. Strangely, she's not even exhausted or even achy despite her many falls as well as being fresh out of her death. Next after, he tested her voice, seeing if her vocal cords are stable. She could only release whispers or small squeaks, her throat feeling like it has not seen use for three whole months that it was only thanks to the sheer silence of the cave that she was even heard by him. He decided that she can improve it over time.

The Host, or the Corruption of Lust who have introduced himself as Viandegroc, had told her of her current situation, which brought her immense relief from her hidden mental distress. It began with the question regarding if she remembered her 'death'. If he was referring to the time when she died of hypothermia in the forest, she does. It followed by asking for her name as well as her origins. She held nothing back in telling him everything, finding no reason to be tightlipped about the Assassin Organization nor does she have any affiliation with them anymore. She failed her job, her punishment is death. She's better off deserting.

And eventually, he began telling her all about her condition. She was dead and brought back to life, thanks to the will of the person who bit her arm. Viandegroc claims not to know why the man did such a thing, saying that she can only find out if she asks the culprit himself. When the topic turned to her right hand, which had been dead and unfeeling but mobile since she had woken up as well as having a different coloration that clashed against the pale skin past her wrist, he told her that her original one had suffered necrosis and would not be healed back anymore. Instead, it was severed and replaced. He tells her that the new attachment has to adapt to her body first before its physical properties like the sense of touch, pain, weight, temperature and other things returns to it.

After that, she was finally given what she wanted most since waking up. A _bath_. She stank of bitter liquid, sweat and was caked in mud, she desperately needed to clean herself up and she gratefully accepted it as soon as he suggested it. When he gestured a stool for her to sit on in the center of the room, she took it wordlessly and the proceedings were immediate.

With the help of skeletons holding 5 giant jugs of water that they could easily lift and carry despite their spindly frames, cold but refreshing water is poured down over her seated form and she passively remained still as the constructs scrubbed her grimy body all over with what felt like moss and leaves instead of sponges while one washed her feet over a white basin. Their skeletal fingers hurt when they worked on removing the mud and oil on her loose wavy hair of blue.

When all 5 jugs were emptied, indulging herself in a small drink during the midst of it as well as relieving her urinary bladder, she was dried up unconventionally as there were no towels nearby. The skeletons generated small flames on their bony hands and carefully hovered the heating palms over her wet form. Once dried, including her hair, she was given the disguise she wore back at Earlham Village, still ripped and damaged from her days under torture and from the time of her death but it was better than nothing. Her sandals are intact, so that's a plus. She left her hair as it is. It's been a while since she had let it down, and she had decided to give up on emulating Elsa, after all.

Led by the hand of the creature of misshapen flesh that was Viandegroc, she's told that he will now take her outside, suggesting that she prepare her eyesight for the sun as it might hurt.

It was a long uphill walk that seemed to have lasted for more than half an hour, giving her a moment to revel at how far the cave system reached below the earth, passing by many other passageways that first smelled like the earth around them, but slowly became reeking of rotting flesh or burning meat. When she thought the smell of decay couldn't get any worse, there was suddenly freshness in the air from ahead in the form of a rising slope towards the ceiling where a wide opening showing the light of the outside world is found.

"Before you go, I must ask."

Meili turned to face him, wondering what is it he wants to know.

He neared his red monstrous face full of external teeth towards her. She did not try to lean back. "Why did you not fear? I would understand if not the skeletons but why are you not afraid of _me_? Even when you were in that section alone with me, my entire body visible for you despite the lack of great illumination, you never expressed the slightest hint of _fear_." He spread his elongated arms to both sides, emphasizing the deformed frame of his person consisting of multiple witchbeast bodies that could send the weak-hearted running from his presence. It would not be surprising if he is found in the nightmares of children. "You cannot possibly have seen anything like me, so why?"

Her response was quick to arrive in her mind, so she replied to him with her usual tone and diction, low and subdued, but the quality of cold stone coated her words, surprising even herself.

"Because I have seen and been through things scarier than yoooouuuu…."

The isolation in the Nothingness. The horrible deaths of horrible people with twisted mindsets. The despair of regret with the thought of never being able to change it forever. The long look of every suffering her victims and those connected to them have been through—_nothing _in the Living World could compare to them. Torture her. Rape her. Beat her. Mutilate her. Do whatever you wished with her. It would never make her flinch. She's been through _worse _now, worse than anyone could go through in a single lifetime, and absolutely **nobody **can argue with her on that.

Viandegroc drew his face back, crossing his long arms over his misshapen chest and the smaller pair of arms holding that strange black knife close to himself, holding a calculating look in his monstrous face, as much as his white eyes could express, "Hmm….interesting." Without any explanation to what he said, he turned around and melted back into the darkness.

She thought nothing of it and ran to the opening of the cave, holding her tiny arm over her eyes to shield herself from the blinding light of day. And when she finally was level with the world above, pure euphoria enraptured her entire consciousness.

The smell of grass and fresh air. The sound of wildlife and rustling trees. The feeling of heat on her skin as well as the gentle breeze of the wind was something she should have known was a simple pleasure worth having compared to what she gets whenever she infiltrated privileged establishments. She couldn't stop herself from giggling happily but quietly, twirling around with her arms spread while her eyes are closed. She could end up smashing her face to a tree but she wouldn't care otherwise. She's _alive_. That was all that mattered. She was given a chance to try again, and she intends not to waste even a single second of it.

And as expected, she hit something with her face. Something hard and stony. She squeaked before she hit her rear to the ground but she ended up laughing herself silly for her own mishap. She laughed so hard she was actually crying, and her tears ran endlessly. Rubbing the sore spot on her face and wiping her eyes, she squinted against the light and looked at what she slammed into.

A face made of rock and hardened earth stared back at her. Her mind immediately recalled the Rock Golem before her death and this happened to be the same one.

She did not fear it. Instead, it fascinated her, especially when it offered her a gigantic hand of sculpted stone, as if silently asking her to stand on it. Looking on for a few more seconds, she laid her feet into its rugged palm and her arms flailed wildly to maintain her balance when it suddenly lifted her up to the hump on its back, which she jumped onto and held tightly on. After making sure that she was there, the stocky being turned around and began trudging onwards to a location, rhythmic rumbles all the way. She made no objections, making the most of it by enjoying the scenery slowly passing by her as well as the ride itself. She hardly met anything other than a witchbeast that offered a ride to her before she could request it.

She sat on its rocky shoulder, white legs hanging freely and her brown hand holding onto the hump while the other was raised high in the air as if to catch the wind. Which is likely the case for her. She's simply enjoying the feeling of the wind passing through her fingers and maybe the branches of trees whenever she could reach one passing by. Her eyes still squinted against the light but it didn't stop her from smiling.

She was looking at things differently now compared to her first lifetime. She stopped giving _anything _a passing glance. She regarded the details very deeply, and she's left at awe by how everything could be so _beautiful_. The scenery, the smells, the noises—it's like there is a song playing everywhere she goes. The subtle blowing of the wind, the little rustles of trees, even the Golem's rumbling body felt like it was making a tune of its own.

And so, she enjoyed Mother Nature for what felt like half an hour of travel, heading onwards to what seemed to be a plume of smoke. Eventually, she smelled roasting meat in the air. Not like the one she smelt in the cave but this one made her water. Grilled meat. Held over the fire by a spit. The edges of her jaw began aching and it took most of her self-control to stop herself from jumping off the Golem's shoulder and running after its source. She's very hungry. She may have been reborn but that did not mean she's full. She did suffer 4 whole days of food deprivation. She could even see her own ribcage when she was being bathed earlier, the same could be said for her arms and legs, _especially_ her legs that weren't covered by any sleeves thanks to her skirt. She might as well be a fleshy skeleton at this point. It's a wonder that she didn't even keel over from weakness by now, or even managed through several hours of physical exercises in the cave without feeling tired at all.

Did being revived leave an aftereffect on her body?

When she was just a hundred meters away from the rising plume of smoke, the Golem halted and lowered its massive upper body to the ground, indicating that she's left to walk on her own at this point. Slipping off its rocky shoulder and landing on her feet, only to lose strength and fall on her rear. "Ow…"

She may not have felt exhaustion but her muscles aren't as great as they had used to, as if they had become loose and weak during her stasis in the tub.

The sound of rumbling earth drew her attention and she watched the Golem trudging away as soon as she had gotten off. Mechanical and mindless, like the tool it is. Almost just like her, dragged around by money and a contract and hardly any attempt to define herself properly besides her killing habits. Since it has no mind nor heart, it doesn't have any obligation for self-identity like her nor any entitlement to receive sympathy.

But still, she has to. "Byyyyyyeeeee…" She waved it goodbye, telling the being that she appreciated its company and service, even if it didn't have the capacity to notice.

Rising to her feet and patting her rear, she continued her journey, seeing things at a shorter elevation of perspective now that she's not at the Golem's shoulder. Under the shadow of trees and close to the earth, she was almost in a trance as she kept her arms spread but near her waist where she can brush her hands across nearby shrubs and bushes whenever she passed them by.

The height of trees. The years it took for them to grow that big. The things it contributed to the environment; home for critters, source of food, giving shade for weary people, keeping floods out, and making the air cool during the summer. It's amazing how one thing could manage so many things at once. And it's only rooted there on the ground, doing nothing except…being a tree. With so many around her, the world is completely safe.

"_Good_ treeeees….." She droned mindlessly with her gaze pointed upwards, her feet taking small steps at a time as she followed the scent of roasting meat to navigate her directions.

She reached a clearing soon afterwards, her gaze on the tree shrubs opening up to the blue sky which she looked away from to save her eyes, and she was graced with quite a sight in front of her.

Bones. Nothing but bones. Instead of femurs, skulls and ribcages, they were in the shape of a chair and a long table placed horizontally in front of it, a bony 2-prong fork and serrated knife placed atop. In the middle of the clearing, meters away from the setting that was stationed close to the edge that provided shade, was a simple fire, a skinned doe leg on a spit roasting over it, suspended by a pair of upside-down Vs made out of bone, attended by a lean skeleton that didn't have a ribcage, pelvis or feet. It instead had sharp stakes for feet and its hands are replaced by four bone curving swords for fingers that seemed too big for dexterous movement but still managing to spin the meat with its 'thumb' and 'finger'.

She suddenly had the urge to turn around and she did.

She met impassive green eyes staring back at her.

She gasped as she recognized him and she looked down in shame, daring not to look at him. She could feel his emotionless but piercing gaze on her person, feeling small as she fiddled with her brown fingers, trying to _feel _the left hand from it.

She heard skeletal feet step on the grass and coming near her. She stiffened, closing her eyes tightly, awaiting a punishing blow to meet her head. Instead of that happening, a skeleton hand held her bicep, spinning her around and pulling her along not too gently but not too roughly, leading her to the chair before she was released.

Staring at his walking form, she sat on the chair and held still, hands on her lap and watching him docilely. He stepped close to the spit roast, gesturing for the clawed skeleton to stop spinning it and he picked a small piece off the meat glistening in grease, his skeleton fingers saving him from getting burnt. Blowing on the smoking piece a few times, he took a bite, chewed and nodded, popping it whole into his mouth.

With another gesture, he and the skeleton grabbed separate ends of the spit, taking it away from the fires and brought it over to the table in front of her, the grease still bubbling, the smoke permeating a delicious smell and her mouth watered even more takes to it no more than a distance where she could take a bite out of it, licking her lips in anticipation.

But she hesitated. Is it really for her? She turned to him, trying not to look at his orbs of glowing green.

_Eat_. He mouthed.

She looked at the meat in front of her, then back to him. "Eat…?"

He nodded before walking away, leaving her alone to eat her delicacy in privacy. From the left of the clearing, a normal skeleton arrived, carrying on its shoulders a skinned deer with its right hind leg missing as it followed after him with the bladed skeleton in tow.

Deciding not to concern herself with him, she took the fork and knife and _gorged_, crying tears of joy and making happy squeaks the whole time. It was so damn delicious. Her time of starving for days are _over_.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The meat was reduced to bones and a spit made out of ivory lying on the table beside it. She leant back on her chair, patting her bloating belly in satisfaction. Letting out a belch, giggling to herself for how loud it is, there's nothing else she'll want any more than something to drink.

Apparently, her wishes are heard, as a pair of skeletons arrived from the clearing the man disappeared to, carrying a jug and a basin filled with water and placing it on the table before stepping away. Standing up, she took the jug first, gulping it down to the bottom. Slightly warm but earthy-tasting water.

While she washed her hands on the basin, she had the urge to turn around again. She knew what it meant.

He's standing behind her. She doesn't know how he managed to sneak up on her like that but he's there. Delicately and meticulously washing her hands, she shook off the liquid and turned around slowly. He was seated on a throne that seemed to look like it was made out of 2 whole skeletons. When she looked behind the table, where the two skeletons had been standing earlier, they were gone.

She turned to him again, feeling trepidation for his abilities of stealth and subtlety.

He gestured to her chair and she complied, rotating it to face him before sitting down.

He stared at her, crossing his arms and if it weren't for his long white hair that swung from the wind, she would have thought that he was frozen like a statue. Or is he? He's not blinking, his chest isn't rising, and his eyes aren't even making the slightest movements. They just fixed the same impassive look on her.

Spending 5 minutes being uncomfortable under his gaze, shifting in her seat and suffering under unbearable silence, she finally let it out. "What do you want?"

He blinked. The only movement she ever saw out of him since she found him sitting down other than motioning her to do the same.

And the monstrous voice resounded in her head, **"Ask your questions."**

She flinched from its sudden arrival, especially when it came from nowhere but inside her skull. It was devoid of emotion, nothing like the fatherly and loving quality she heard before her death, containing only the sounds of flesh, bones and steel churning together impossibly to form words.

Even if she had faced worse, she was _terrified _of it.

Her left arm throbbed, her bitten place making itself known to her consciousness. She rubbed it over her sleeve and found her first question.

"Why did you bit me?"

**"Because I figured that a child that was separated from the six children who were cursed on that field is nothing but a trap. I found it _odd _because I do not understand why _you _were the trap instead of them. You could have been the mastermind or I could be wrong. In order to be safe, I gave you my blood through that bite. That made you easy to track. As soon as the incident was over, I would easily find you if you tried to run. If you had, it would only mean you _were_ the mastermind. If you did not run and were not responsible, I would siphon it out of you and declare you innocent."**

She bit her lip and crumpled her skirt. So, she was found out from the start.

She looked up to him but still didn't meet his emotionless gaze. "Who was that skeleton? The skeleton that threw me in that cave….what did it do to me?"

He blinked, unchanging in his whole demeanor.

**"That skeleton was my Mother. Because of you, I lost my voice trying to save an idiot who ran after me. Because of you, I was driven to suicide. Because of you, you made me lose hope of living. Mother found out and punished you accordingly. Did you try to run the day after I rescued you?"**

She nodded weakly, tears now running down her cheeks from his undeniable accusations, her stomach taking deep stabs from a knife each time. When she tried to run away in the witchbeast forest, a sudden drowsiness and sickness came down on her so suddenly, making her fall to the ground without warning. She had no idea what's happening to her and fell unconscious before she could go too far.

**"The blood I gave you is poison mixed with my mana. It will not take affect so long as you aren't far away from me. If you are, you will suffer nausea, body pain, headaches, extreme body heat, dehydration, and blackened veins. Mother took advantage of that by putting you in the one place you cannot escape from, not too far nor too close from my distance. That was the worst punishment she has ever devised for you, fitting for what you did to me."**

She sniffled. Bowing her head even further that her chin touched her chest, tears dripping from her eyes and landing on the back of her hands. Among the victims she had made suffer, _he _was one of them. Inevitably, she experienced the despair and pain he went through because of his efforts to rectify the incident she caused days ago. She forced a maid to suffer blame, even nearly died trying to repent for it. He pushed him to suicide, making his Mother promise punishment on the mansion when he suddenly disappeared in the wand. She was responsible for _every _suffering he and some people of the mansion went through. Even the maid's close brush with death yesterday was her fault.

"Wh….what are you gonna do to me?"

**"You _know_ what's going to happen. Even if you went through 4 days starving and suffering in a cave, dying, left alone in isolation for eternity, and then going through the deaths of the people I killed as well the sufferings of the people you hurt, it is _not _enough."**

The pit in her stomach fell even deeper, and she feared what he's going to do to her. She had went through such sufferings, but what good would having such experiences do when she was brought back to Life, only to go through hell _again_.

With a voice that was barely ever audible through sobs and chokes, she asked, "Will….you l-let me…go?"

**"No." **The monstrous voice now had a chilling quality in it.

Without warning, a bony hand snapped around her throat and she was forced up from her chair, her feet touching nothing as they dangled weakly from the air.

There was nothing but pure wrath on his white countenance, eyes burning a blazing green, his hair floating as if underwater and her throat beginning to close under his grip.

The eldritch voice was lined with a stone-cold tone, suppressing extreme urges of murder, **"You took my voice. You took my will to live. You forced Mother to take the maid's life. You endangered my friend's name. You endangered _children_. You forced Viandegroc to take away 65 years of my lifespan." **He brandished the serrated cutting knife that was once on the table she ate from in his hand, **"You _deserved _it….! You _deserved _to suffer for everything you did!"**

Laying the sharp side against the revealing flesh from the tatter of her dress, he drew the blade sideways and immense _pain _clouded her mind.

Her side had _opened_.

Relief arrived on her neck and she landed roughly on the soil, coughing roughly and making raspy screams with her enfeebled throat, holding the open wound on her side to suppress the bleeding and kicking away from him, sliding across the grass futilely.

….

….….

….….….

She found an anomaly, and her screaming was instantly silenced as she saw it. From a large shred on her dress on the right side of her waist, there was a shredded opening on her white skin, courtesy of a serrated knife that slid across it. The red glistened against the light, she could even see her muscles, some intact and some severed gruesomely….but it wasn't bleeding. She looked at the palm of the hand that tried to suppress the bleeding, the brown hand—there was _no _bloodstain.

"Eh….?"

**"You do not bleed…."**

A skeletal hand gripped her shoulder across her back.

**"….because _you_ do not want to."**

And a big white hand covered her wound whole, giving slight pressure on it, which made her wince and grunt in pain as she felt her skin underneath his palm_ moving_. She felt disgusted, and it hurts.

When he moved his hand away but kept his bony grip on her shoulder, the wound was gone. Not even a scar.

**"Not even a scar because _I _do not want to see it."**

She turned to the man who knelt beside her and kept her back from meeting the ground. His face had finally broken away from a static disposition. It held a soft look as it regarded her, no longer appearing like an impersonal stranger and more _human_.

"Healing magic?"

**"Reconstruction." **He corrected. The eldritch voice was even colored, like that of a elderly man lecturing a child. **"Healing magic is buying new bricks and cement to repair the damaged part. Reconstruction is picking up the broken pieces and putting them back together, like a house of cards." **He pushed her by the arm on her back to sit upright and released her, **"With the right guidance, you can do the same."**

She looked up to him, shocked, finally meeting his green eyed gaze. There was no dullness in his glow now. He was now looking _at _her, perceiving her as a proper entity in his proximity instead of an object solely meant to suffer his wrath. "You'll…._teach _me?"

He nodded, sincere and unhesitatingly.

"But-but you said you were going to punish me."

**"Wrong. I said you 'deserved to suffer'. I _did _say that you have not suffered enough but I never once said that I will raise my hand on you."**

"Oh…" She felt immense relief, but her confusion only overpowered it. Just what is this man getting into? "What do you want? What do you want with me?"

He turned his eyes to something beside her head. **"Look at your hair."**

She reached up to touch the wavy locks behind her shoulder, "My hair?"

**"Look at the tip."**

She pulled her strands in front of her and slid her fingers downwards to the end and found _white _tips. Eyes wide, she scrubbed her thumb across it a few times and it did not disappear. "What? What is this?"

**"That is because of the blood that flows in your veins. _My _blood." **He rose to his feet and extended a hand for her, the left one made of flesh, and she took it, being pulled up to her feet before he continued, **"In a week or so, your hair will become white and your eyes will glow like mine."**

Her mind soaked in the knowledge carefully, and she took the tip of her hair into her hands again, imagining herself as a white haired little girl with glowing green eyes. The thought was troubling, "I'll become like you?"

**"No. Absolutely _not_. I will _not_ allow it." **The eldritch voice was firm. **"In time, you will bear the power I wield and it will grow, soon to match mine. But that power will _kill _you. However, with my guidance, you will bend the control it has on you back on itself." **He held his skeletal hand out in front of her and it exhumed green necromantic energy like fire. She could feel its influence not just on her skin but on her _soul._ **"You will make wonders more horrifying, more beautiful that you would rival what this world is capable of making. You will emulate the greatness of Lady Sabarra."**

Power. The power to bend the laws of life and death just as he had when he brought her out of the forest. To be able to manipulate the souls of the departed and bend the flesh of others as if it were her own plaything. To create life on the soil. To put life into departed bones. To take the life of others with a mere gesture. To have the powers of a god—

The intoxicating glow disappeared and forced her back into reality. She flinched from her phase of self-awareness and shook her head, getting rid of the sudden muddle haze in her mind.

**"Power has a price, and the currency of that power must be paid with freewill."**

She held still. She processed the words he said. She figured out the implications. And a crease formed on her forehead.

She looked up to him with a glare, finding the courage of defiance. "Are you saying…that I should give up my freedom…for _that_?"

**"That wasn't a request."**

"NO!" She backed away from him, her voice found the strength to shout and it came out cracked. Holding down her embarrassment, she turned the fire in her heart into anger, "I've only just realized how much I _wasted _my life! You may have got me back to life but you can't just make me give that up!"

He became impassive once more, the eldritch voice turning into an emotionless drone, **"You said it yourself. You were a wasted existence, and you're _still_ as immature as your age. You cannot be trusted with your own freewill yet."**

Her voice was slowly beginning to find a stable volume above a whisper, and she utilized it to the fullest to exert her will and refusal. "So you're just going to control my life then!? I might as well just leave!"

**"Didn't I tell you? If you run away too far from me, you will only suffer the poison of my blood."**

"Kuh!" She found no counterargument to that. This man said it himself, he is capable of tracking her down so long as she has his blood in her body. It's all over her. Even if she were to bleed it out, she'd die before she could get rid of its entirety. She lost this battle. "How could you...how could you do this to me...!? You….you monster—"

**"WHO'S THE MONSTER HERE!?" **

Intense power erupted out of him, his eyes turning into blinding lights of sun-like intensity, his sneer exposing gritting sharp teeth that could easily rip her in half, and the Afterlife opened up behind him, exhuming the wails and moans of the departed souls that it silenced all creation around him. She saw what was horrifying in the Afterlife, she thought she would never fear anything again in the Living World. She was wrong.

**"You, who would not hesitate to kill children close to your age without the slightest thought, would dare call _me_ a MONSTER!? Compared to you, the people I kill _deserved _it, just….like….YOU! Do you think you do not deserve this!? Did you forget that your punishment is still not over!? Did you forget what you've done to me!? If it wasn't for me, you'd be _stuck_ there forever in the darkness of the Dragon's gut doing NOTHING!"**

Before he was even finished roaring in that terrible and horrifying voice, she had already collapsed on her rear, curled up and burying her eyes to her knees, clamping down on her ears to deafen the sounds of the Dead wailing everywhere.

She wants them to stop. She wants them to stop. She wants them to stop. They wouldn't stop screaming. The crying kept going. They still kept going. Why are they still going?

**"You are an assassin, and you _failed _your assignment. And I know that the penalty is Death. Even if _they_ figured you were already dead, even if I were to expunge my blood off you and let you go, would Mother even allow it? She'd kill you then, or worse."**

She can't hear him. She can't hear him. She can't hear him. She can't hear him. She can't hear him. She can't hear him.

…..

….….….

….….….….they stopped. The Dead stopped screaming and the sounds of the wilderness returned. Wildlife, winds, trees, the beautiful songs that she had never noticed till this day.

She lifted her tearful eyes up from her knees and he was still there. However, he knelt before her, carrying a pitying look, mingling with the righteous rage in his dimly glowing eyes.

**"It may not seem like you have a choice here, but it is still open for you." **He held out his left hand to her once again, **"Take my hand and live, learn from me and perform under me, acquire wisdom and knowledge, attain enlightenment that can help you better yourself, or you may leave to live the way you see fit and take your chances with the world. Eventually, you'll suffer the consequences of your sins just as you have suffered from me. You are still an assassin and someone, somewhere, will recognize you, and they _will _kill you. It's an inevitability now. You _will_ meet the wrath of those who have suffered from your actions, and that means _death_, and I will _not _be there to save you again. Decide, and I will respect it. You have my word as a Priest of the Serpent."**

He gave her the power to decide her fate and cornered her with it. What she hated the most was that he's _right_. There was _nothing _in the world for her anymore. She's now a target by her own Organization for her failure. Elsa is likely dead by now, considering she just disappeared after getting beheaded. Even if she were to successfully elude her former comrades, who would welcome her into their doorstep without having a knife hid behind their backs for something she's done? Even if she were to hide in the wilderness with the witchbeasts just like before she became human, how could she stop the skeletal menace from finding her again?

It was at this point that she realized that she was now _alone _in the Living World.

But in front of her was a chance. Not only the chance to survive but the one chance she got in this very moment to live the second life she was granted in a way that befitted her. She's going to be subjected to his will, he's going to take away many things away from her, but at the same time he is also compensating her losses with what he can give. He will give her power, he will give her knowledge—he will give her a guiding path in how she will take Life from now on…..just as Elsa had…..but this time she will be much more conscious about who she is from now on…..

…..would it be really worth it to surrender herself to him?

Wiping her eyes and nose, she rose up to her feet and stared back at him. He did not rise up, only staying on her level, keeping his left knee down and holding his left hand out, waiting for her response. Gulping and clenching her fists at her sides, she responded in hesitating sobs, "If I…..if I say yes….if I give myself to you…..will I still get to be me?"

To her surprise, he nodded with genuine sincerity, the eldritch voice rich with nothing but wholehearted honesty. **"Yes you shall. I will be strict but I will _never _imprison you. You are a Human just like me, and true Humans _define themselves_. What I offer may change you, from the way you think to the way you act, you may not be able to recognize yourself when you look back at the past in the nearest possible future, but they are only the stepping stones. When the time comes, when your eyes are no longer clouded, I will unbind you from the curse of my blood….and set you free to decide who you truly are."**

…..

…..…..

…..…..…..

So it was only temporary? She's only going to surrender her freedom only to have it returned to her? From the looks of what he said, it almost sounds like he is going to take over as her _guardian_…

…..how would having somebody like that in her life feel like, without having to _pretend_ just like she always had in her assignments? Elsa wasn't her guardian. Meili treated her like an equal, and did so by acting pretentiously like her.

She reached out with both hands, one white and the other brown, and held on to his own, literally dwarfing hers in terms of size but she gripped as tightly as she could.

Maybe it's time to experience what she had been missing out on her stunted childhood. The Assassin Organization took away many things from her. Now that she deserted from them, would she be able to get them back? Would she have more than what she could regain from _him_?

He had a stiff gaze and she could feel the tension in his body as she held his hand. Her final decision was apparently hard to take in for him as well even though he gave her no choice. He closed his eyes, taking a few calming breaths and as he opened them again, his air became solemn and serious.

Glowing green eyes looked back at her.

**"Tell me your name."**

She maintained her gaze back at his orbs, now unblinking and unwavering as her resolve backed up her spirit, speaking in her best solemn tone. "Meili….Meili Portroute."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and when she saw them flash green, the voice became low, deep and reverent as it intoned, **"I cast aside the name of Portroute and bestow to you the name of Sinnuldel. The Scourge of the Serpent. Master of the Witchbeasts."**

His grip tightened around her hands and the intoxicating power he promised for her emanated all around him, casting an aura of swampy green around an outline of his form. She could feel its grip on her person, especially with their clasped hands. She held back its influence and maintained her self-awareness. His hair began floating, his eyes illuminating a trailing light and the eldritch voice reverberated inside her head.

**"_I, Emurdol Viandegroc, Priest of the Serpent, the Third Right Claw of the Dragon, shall swear on my Flesh that is inferior and on my Soul that is eternal that you, Meili Sinnuldel, will earn the guarantee of my words and shall remain true to them so long as my body remains in this plane. With this oath, I pledge and swear with Vra'Ugthol and Lady Sabarra as my witnesses. Let it be so_."**

As if to validate his vow, his form erupted with necromantic power, affecting the ambient mana in the air before they congregated back to him, and it made the white hand that held both her own glow brightly in green light.

Then, as suddenly as it had happened, everything went back to normal. His hair stopped floating and his eyes returned to their dim light, tenderly holding her tiny hands with his own.

Meili controlled her breathing that had paced from the proceedings, hardly believing it even as it happened merely seconds ago. All that power, so beautiful, intoxicating, terrifying, and seductive all at once. It felt as if she was in the eye of a storm, untouched yet surrounded by an unstoppable force of nature that decimated anything that dared to come near. And she _controlled _it. "What….what was that?"

**"A contract of fealty and devotion. The closest bond that a Priest of the Serpent will ever make to someone outside of our own people. By the law of my kin and the magic in my blood, I am now sworn to you. It would be the only means for you to earn my loyalty."**

_His _loyalty? Sworn to _her_? His loyalty _to_ her instead of the other way around?

**"As befitting a contract, both sides will benefit from the other. You will surrender everything you have to me. Your freewill. Your right to decide. Your right to act as you will. Your life. Your flesh. Your blood. Your Soul. You do not own them anymore, they are now mine to use as I see fit."**

Despondent and disheartened, she could only lower her head for the sacrifice she made just for this choice she made in living her second chance at life.

His other hand, the one of hardened ivory closed around their clasped hands. It was a very gentle grip and her unfeeling brown hand _felt _it. Her eyes went wide over the sudden sensation as she raised her gaze back up to look at it before turning back to him. His face was gentle, warm. The quality of the eldritch voice matched it, just like before the final moments of her first lifetime.

**"In exchange: I will care for you. I will sustain you. Teach you. Guide you. Help you. Protect you. Love you. All that is mine will soon be yours. I will entrust to you my life. Those you love I shall love and your enemies will become mine. No one else will ever harm you again. With the best of my efforts, you will only suffer because of _me._ Whatever joy this world can offer, I will attain it and give it all to _you_. The value of one Soul cannot be matched by any wealth in the world and what I give in return will _never_ be enough except for my own."**

Her mouth hung at his vow. She was speechless. His every word was full of heart and sincerity, promises that are true and will be upheld to the end. She was trusted with so many things and given many things she never thought he would have for her. She _owned _him too. Her life was now in his hands, she had his in hers likewise.

Her feet began moving towards him, and she didn't realize it. Their joined hands were eventually pinned in-between both their chests and she never looked away from his _loving _gaze, their faces barely an inch away from each other.

He neared his lips to her face.

**"My blood."**

He kissed her right cheek.

**"My flesh."**

He kissed the other.

**"My own."**

He gave one to her forehead and met it with his own.

**"My daughter."**

At this moment, Meili's heart burned. Since becoming self-aware, Meili never knew her parents and never once made an attempt to know who they are. She never knew true love or affection. Anytime Elsa ever treated her like a child, she would rebuff it because 'she's an adult'. She may have been cared for by her but the woman hardly ever expressed honest affection like this without being mocking. She tries to receive such things from the witchbeasts during her private moments. She thought it was equal to the ones kids her age would get from their parents. She was wrong. It was inferior compared to love born of freewill.

It _burns_. He had cold lips. Cold hands. Cold skin. His feelings for her, however, set her heart ablaze. She felt warm inside, sending an indescribable sensation all over her being. She doesn't know this feeling. She was loved. Loved so much by someone who would surrender everything he has just for the sake of her joy. And he called her _Daughter_, put first in his heart before anyone else.

He _loved_ her.

And it hurts. Why does it hurt? Was it normal to be this hurt? Does love hurts so much like this? Is being loved by a parent really this painful? Or is it just because she had _never_ been loved like this? Was it because she starved for this sort of attention? Just how long has the want been growing inside her, waiting to be quelled until he arrived?

How long?

"Hik….hi….! Hu….hu…."

She pulled her hands out of his grip and clutched the bones wrapped around his chest, frantically trying to break it open. Taking the hint, his ribcage opened up before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to his unarmored chest, his skeleton hand caressing the back of her head as she buried her face into the fabric of his robes. Her little hands clutched him tightly, her brown one _ripping _the cloth.

Her cries were first subdued, her shoulder hitching in her sobs, and eventually it turned into a muffled wail. His embrace tightened as she began letting out her years of suppressed pain that had been growing from her longing for real affection.

"Shh…shh…..shh….."

The one time he used his own mouth to speak, there was only comfort.

As he did, the world around them continued on without a care, the songs of creation mingling with her cries and the consoling hushes of her new Father.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Flat-heeled shoes stepped along the trodden path usually taken by Dragon Carriages, accompanied by a hum maintaining a single note and the rhythmic rattles and clicks of bones.

A little girl of fine pristine features that promised a beautiful growth skipped along the road, her braided white hair bouncing in each step behind her and her olive green eyes sparkled cheerfully. She wore a black cloak that matched her short stature, only reaching down to her white ankles, concealing a dark long-sleeve shirt and black short-shorts, the hood down and bouncing along. She exemplified the image of energetic childishness and bright youth, slightly fitting for her age.

The small wavy knife made out of bone stained with dry blood strapped to her belt that revealed itself whenever her cloak opened up as well as the contraption in her gloved right hand that seemed to be made out of vertebras, finger bones and a small skull, however, indicated that she's far from normal despite her looks.

She hummed a one-note song, collaborated by the wand through making percussive beats with the finger bones rattling on the animal skull adorning the top, the latter piece making a loud biting snap at a fixed point of the rhythm. Due to it being early in the morning, the winds and songs of animals strangely absent for the moment, she wanted to fill in the silence with what she can provide.

And ahead of her, her destination is now within sight. Black iron gates, a massive yard and a grand building behind it. The Manor of Roswaal Mathers.

She cut off her song and began walking normally, footsteps silent, hiding her form properly in her cloak and invoking a mysterious air around her person as she put on her hood and pulled it over her eyes. Underneath the shadow, a smirk stretched over her thin lips.

With her free left hand, wearing no glove and her pale flesh bare to the world, she reached for the bars of the gate, the contact nearing, and the iron _phased _through her grasp, her physical being enshrouded by a black whirling mass that moved like floating ink as she slipped through the barrier and into the other side, her small cloaked form materializing with her hood down.

She panted for breath and she bended down to rest her hands on her knees. She giggled, sweat suddenly forming on her forehead, "Okaaaay…never doing that agaaaiiiin….Papa hasn't even taught me this yeeeet."

The sound of two pairs of footsteps approaching made her stiffen up, and her smirk widened even further. Hiding her exhaustion, her expressions tamed to become composed and in control, she straightened her posture and hid her hands in her cloak.

A pair of girls who looked like twins walked side by side, literal mirror images of the other from their headdress to the hairstyle, with one having the hair and eyes of pink and the other of blue. The demon maid sisters, her Papa had told stories of, wearing custom-made maid outfits with bits of white skin revealing on areas near the chest and detached sleeves on each arm.

The one thing she focused on were the fierce looks they are giving her, one hid the hottest rage in a sea of blue while the scarlet symbolized cold fury. A contradiction to common perceptions of the two colors. They still walked towards her with an aura of nobility and elegance around them like the prim and proper maidservants they are, keeping their hands to themselves instead of reaching for their weapons.

"You are trespassing on Lord Roswaal's property." The blue maid started in a cold tone as soon as she and her sister stood at a fair distance away.

"Though, given that you bothered to take the gate and did not even attempt to hide, that makes you more than a common interloper." The pink maid inferred, crossing her arms and looking at her imperiously. "State your business."

She gave them a sweet smile and a coquettish look, tilting her head while putting her hands behind her back even though they can't be seen underneath her cloak. "Weeell, I come to bring a message to your Lord and Maaaaster. The person who wrote it can't come himself since he's feeling a little dead insiiiiide."

"If you think dying your hair white and wearing a different personality could fool Ram and Rem, think again." Her white eyebrow quirked in interest at the pink maid's cold tone, "Ram knew it was you who perpetrated the ulgarm incident 2 weeks ago. Explain yourself."

"Aaaw! Busted so soooon?" She cried in mock displeasure, recoiling backwards dramatically before righting herself, still maintaining a smile that showed impossibly white and straight teeth. "And we haven't even met befoooore." She muttered before finally exerting her identity.

Her braid suddenly came loose without being touched before her arms swept aside her cloak to reveal her petite form wearing a dark long-sleeved shirt and her black short-shorts that showed her milky white legs and ending in black flat-heeled shoes. With the bone kris stained with dry blood at her belt revealing, it indicated that she did not come here defenselessly, expecting warm greetings after what she did 2 weeks prior.

Putting one foot in front of the other, the black glove that held the bone wand is put against her chest, the finger bones and the small skull clicking and clacking the pattern of greetings before she leaned her upper body forward in a bow without looking away from the two maids, her other hand lifting up a hem of her cloak as if it were a skirt, smiling sweetly all the way.

The details that made their fierce faces crack into shock and surprise were the bright glow in her olive green eyes, the floating sway of her white hair as if it were underwater and the necromantic energy of ghostly green emanating around her form like a green bonfire. Now they know _who_ they are dealing with.

"I am Meili Sinnuldel, the Scourge of the Serpent, and a cute little Wyrmm under the care of my sweeeeet Papa, Emurdol Viandegroc. I come to bust in like I own the place and pass a message Papa has for your Lord, and if anyone of you people who live in this big mansion try to hurt me, you're all gonna end up stuffing your bellies with each other's insiiiides."

Meili's greetings was sweet, amiable, sugary, and disconcertingly seductive, but it carried a hidden ingredient of poison. Those with common knowledge about necromagi, especially one from Pandemonium, should know that listening to such a sound from her kind is the antecedent of allowing her influence to reach your soul and the maids made the mistake of initiating social conventions that demanded her to _speak_.

_Now no one's gonna hurt cute and innocent Meili. Papa will be proud._


	14. Papa's Little Girl

_Listen, An'k. The Spectral Realm live by rules that are completely incomprehensible to ours in the Living Realm. Why do you have a nose? It's to smell. Why do you have eyes? It's to see. Why do you have a _body_? It's so your Soul can _exist_ in the Living Realm and make changes. Without a body, you are incapable of influence or change._

_In this world, you need to walk, run or ride in order to reach a certain place. In the other, the certain place goes to them or they simply _arrive_ there without walking. To do something, you need to use your hands and exert energy and force to accomplish it. In the other, the sooner you want it, it's already _done_. In order to understand another person or exchange thoughts, you need dialogue and communication. In the other, you already understood each other even if you have met for the first time._

_"Why is it like thaaaat?"_

_Because there's no such thing as 'distance' or 'boundaries' in the Spectral Realm. Everything is composed as _One Being_. A Singularity._

_In the Spectral Realm, everyone can feel your emotions, hear your thoughts and understand you to the point that they are completely capable of thinking like you. The same way applies to you too. You can empathize others in such a way as well, capable of understanding them wholeheartedly. You can't do that in the Living Realm. Never. Because there's always something that stops you from doing that. Whether the difference in opinion, views or emotions, we can _never _understand each other completely._

_What knowledge you know, the others will know too. They are you, after all. What desire you have, it's their desire too. It can go the other way as well, because you are them. What they have is yours too._

_That is our Afterlife, An'k. When we perish, we will head to the Spectral Realm and be received with understanding and empathy. The other Souls will know what we have been through, know what we've done, know our emotions, and the Dragon will remember the moment forever. He will comfort us with his Knowledge._

_"Does…does that mean we lose ourseeelves? Our sense of seeelves?"_

_That's not supposed to be a question. You have been reincarnated countless times, how many sense of selves have you created before you created the Self called Meili Portroute? Our Soul _already_ has a sense of self, born from the many Selves they gathered and mixed together in their Living Life._

_"Do we remember our old Seeelves?"_

_Hmph, it's possible but it hardly ever happens. Even in the Order of the Serpent, there has not been one who remembers their past Life for centuries._

_I know you might be asking: why do we want to go to the Living Realm even though we are going to suffer from it and the Spectral Realm was the perfect place? It's because we _want _to, An'k. You may not understand it, because you're still _alive_. We want to be born in Existence again because we wish to impart our knowledge and wisdom to the Living, because we want to give change so everything could be better for them. Your Soul wanted to as well before you were born, including mine. They made the choice to go back to the Living, without hesitation and without regret._

_Even if we do not remember our reason why we were born to this world, even if we came out wrong, even if we were born with horrible lives, even if we did not come back as a complete human, even if we did not live for too long, we still try because no matter how we are born, we _always _end up leaving behind knowledge and Wisdom to the Living with our actions. Always._

_"Woooow…."_

_Beautiful, isn't it? That's why we Priests look forward to the Afterlife; to bring home our knowledge, share them with the other Souls, and rest happily in the Dragon's breast._

_"If I wanna be a grandmaaa?"_

_To live till you're old and withered? Go ahead, do as you wish. Humans have the right to decide that. Once I let you go, you can have all that your Freedom can give you._

_…...If I were to tell you that we can enforce the rules of the Spectral Realm to this world, would you believe me?_

_"….uum…."_

_…...We can. That is one of our many wonders as Priests of the Serpent, and there are others more beautiful than it, but since this is the Living Realm and the Living are made of flesh, the rules cannot be realized to its full extent, but it will put the odds in our favor._

_Hold my hand and we can begin._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Lord Roswaal will be with you shortly." Said the Red Maid as she went away to retrieve the master.

"I'll just be here like a gooood girl."

After the initial greetings, Meili was taken to the reception area of the mansion, seated on a soft couch with a table in front of her. Her posture uncannily straight and noble, away from the backrest with her hands interlocked above her white knees. If it weren't for her snake-like gaze, seductive smile, her casual if half-revealing clothing of jet-black that highlighted her white flesh and hair, and the constant sway of her floating hair that indicated her hostility, she would have been mistaken for an aristocrat's daughter and not a venomous presence.

And the girl's aware of that. She was once an assassin after all, and disguises are part of her expertise. Knowing how others see her is part of the package. She's simply fitting in the setting inside a nobleman's manor, even though her wardrobes lack the part and her true colors are blatantly showing through her face. It seemed she retained her habit of playing around on the job.

The bone wand on her lap clicked. It was a beckon, so she began humming again, maintaining a C-minor note.

The resident Souls and Spirits in this manor are quite plentiful, and most of them are _young_. The latter happened to be one of the master's ancestors. Some barely managed to age past a decade and a half, and even more are those who didn't even reach a decade.

The Souls of deceased children, especially when they are very young, are the quickest to return to the Afterlife. However, they are equally capable of lingering in the Living Realm as a Hollow for as long as they wished if their emotions were too strong before death. To see so many young ones are _baffling_.

They mutter the same thought over and over.

_Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen._ _Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen. Stolen._

Meili had a slight worry over why, especially when they are strongly tied to this place. Her face, however, betrayed nothing. She still smiled coquettishly and stared predatorily into something unseen, frozen except for her hair.

Just like a corpse.

She was proud of herself for perfectly emulating Papa whenever he's idle. No blinking. Barely visible breathing. Steady as stone except for the hair. And a frozen countenance. A perfect match.

"Rem brought some tea, Honored Guest."

Without turning her head, olive green eyes snapped to look at the blue maid pushing a cart to the table and watched as she poured tea into a cup and placed it on the table close to Meili.

"Thank you, Blue Maidyyyy." The child warmly thanked, wearing an inviting look in her expressions towards the girl called Rem, contrasting with her youthful looks, "I haven't drank anything civilized in two weeeeeks. All I've ever got were river water, spring water, and sometimes some of the weeeiiiird stuff Papa makes me drink. Blood tooooo."

She nearly saw the maid blanch before it was amazingly suppressed without giving away anything, "Rem is honored to be of service."

Meili's smile widened, almost wickedly. The maid did _not _mean any of that, but the young necromagus did not try to address it. She reached for the saucer and cup carefully, sliding her left fingers underneath the plate while her gloved right hand carefully held the handle without breaking it, doing so with the movements of a dainty little princess with practiced ease. Fitting for the setting of a nobleman's house.

Blowing on the steaming tea to cool it down for several moments, she took a sip and delighted in its rich taste. Meili nearly sneered at the discovery thanks to her developed sense of taste.

The ingredients are poisonous….if there was too much of it, that is. There was a shared secret amongst household servants that most tea ingredients are poisonous but not lethally so that it leaves no aftereffects. Only in excess amounts will it ever end someone's life. A killing tool she had utilized a couple times before.

In conclusion, this maid was _not_ trying to poison her. Looks like there won't be any trouble for the moment.

Smiling brightly, she exclaimed, "This tastes gooood! Did you make this, Blue Maidyyyy?"

"Yes, Honored Guest, but my Sister makes a better brew of tea compared to me so your praise is wasted on Rem."

Still maintaining that sunshiny smile, Meili asked, "Then what if I tell you that I would like your serving of tea from noooow on?"

With practice and with ease, the maid's expressions never twitched the slightest, showing no emotion in her features and exhuming the presence of a dignified and humble maid, making the gesture of Happiness with her right hand; middle and ring fingertips touching the thumb while the index and pinky fingers are stretched out, a fox. "Rem is much honored to hear that."

Meili smiled widely, making no attempt to hide the wickedness of its impression on herself as she drank her tea some more.

Having the blood of her Papa, however, she _cannot _miss the expertly-veiled hatred in the orbs of blue. In the maid's mind, she's not welcome here and would have done something irrational if this wasn't the place where she could easily be seen attacking a guest without warning, even if Meili was the culprit of an incident not too long ago.

Since being reborn, her instincts and her senses have grown sharper than when she wore the name of Portroute, and her newfound habit to look closely into anything around her granted her the ability to discern things that most people would miss on the first glance.

The first among other things she could see are the emotions of others through eye-contact. Wear a cute smile and a sweet gaze, then no one will realize what she's doing. Such a seductive look truly doesn't fit her age, she is perfectly aware of that, but if it disconcerts others, that makes it easy for her to manipulate things in her favor.

Steadily lowering the cup to her lap, she was still again and her mind wandered to Papa, the dark smile still adorning her features without betraying any sort of emotion.

_I wonder how's he feeling now….He and Grandma really had a big fight._

It was at _that_ time when she discovered her gift to read the emotions of others, and she saw the hurt and pain in Papa's green eyes, devoid of the warmth and affection it carried whenever they turned to her. Despite his assurances that he can forgive her, he is still shaken by what the skeleton's actions had led to; poisoning the maid and forcing Uncle Viandegroc to release the Shade, which took away most of his lifespan.

There is still a rift between them, Papa pointedly not looking at his Mother's direction and the latter still as a statue in the background, away from her son's distance while exhuming a despondent aura.

_Papa…how are you gonna forgive Blue Maidy if you can't forgive your mama first?_

"Honored Guest, if Rem may dare to ask…." The maid said hesitantly.

The polite way it was delivered drew most of Meili's attention that she turned her head to face the girl directly. If the tone is like that, her question is very likely sensitive. The little girl could tell what the question is already.

"….how have you come to know Ser Emurdol?"

_Ah, the Living…..so predictable, just like how Papa taught me._

She put a pale finger to her chin, looking up into the ceiling in exaggerated pondering, the smile on her face turning into a leer, "Well, maybe if you had actually _listened _to him and waited in the village while he's rescuing meeeee, he wouldn't have lost his throat trying to save you from the bad doggies and the bonies, and he would still be able to tell you aaaaaall about it."

Her olive green eyes glowing bright, she turned her look towards the blanching maid who _barely _stopped herself from lashing out of her maidservant persona and flinging out that giant flail she was warned of. However, that perfectly stoic mask that she had been keeping up after recovering from hearing Meili's intimate affiliation with the man named Emurdol Viandegroc _broke_.

She looked ready to _cry_.

Morbid satisfaction rolled across the young necromagus' form, her leer turning sardonic. She wasn't expecting to find catharsis and found the sensation rather unwelcome. That wasn't her intent here. Meili's a good girl.

_But still, she _did _broke Papa's heart….maybe she deserved it….just a little._

"…Rem….Rem was—"

"Oooh _myyyyy_! What a _surpriiiiise_ this is for my eyes to _seeeeee_!"

The most flamboyant voice to ever grace Meili's ears made her skin crawl, and she thought she was desensitized to most things now since multiple murders and her death. The rumored Court Magician of Lugnica finally shows himself to her for the very first time as he descended down the stairs with a large smile, and he was as _weird _as the gossips say. Topped with silky dark blue hair, his face completely covered with white makeup, and his eyes were _mismatched _in color_. _There were mentions of his attire being bizarre, and her expectations were exceeded when she saw it for herself: a high-collared cape with a skintight outfit decorated exaggeratedly with shapes and gold linings, and halved vertically into two shades of violet in the middle.

_He really does look weird…and acts like it too…._

Putting down the plate on the table, keeping the cup in her left hand, and smiling flirtatiously, Meili stood up from the couch, holding the wand in her right gloved hand and held it to her chest, the small skull and finger bones clicking and clacking in greetings while she bowed without looking away from the extravagant noble. "Pleasure to meet youuuu! My name's Meili and you truly look as weird and eccentric as they saaaay!"

The man held up a white gloved hand, to stop the red maid following behind him from saying something sharp in defense of her master. "Ah, my reputation _preceeeeedes_ me! Though you may already know, _allooow_ me to introduce myself." He bowed deeply, a hand to his chest and spread the other to the side. "My name is Roswaal L. Mathers and the _pleaaasure_ is all mine to meet the Mastermind of the _Wiiiitchbeast_ Incident."

Her smile remained planted to her face as she righted herself and sat back down, "My big thanks for not killing me on siiiight! It would have been a problem if you did before I even relayed myyy message."

"_Yeees_." The happy smile likewise remained planted on Roswaal's face as he sat down on a separate sofa across the table in front of her. "You would force us to devour our own entrails if we _triiied_ anything violent. _Oooh_, how horrible _thaaat_ would _beee_!"

This lord is _very _funny.

"Yay!" She raised her wand up happily, "I'm very happy to see some _sense _in people after what _not_ having any led to two weeks agoooo!"

She drank her tea nonchalantly as Meili saw a minuscular flinch in the blue maid's stance.

"_Yeees_." Roswaal's smile dimmed in brightness but it was still there. "A _truuuuly_ unfortunate turn of events that could've been avoided. Poor Ser Emurdol."

The maid's cheeks were tightening, and the turmoil in those orbs of blue were slowly getting apparent. The red maid beside her noticed it as well, so she held her hand in comfort.

The lord eyed the wand in her hand before facing her, "I've come to hear from Ram that the message _yooouuu_ carry comes from the man _himseeeelf_." He held his elbow across his abdomen while the other hand supported his cheek, interest glowing from his smirk, "_Aaaand _you refer to him as 'Papa' now, you even carry a little something that would _deeeefinitely_ come from _hiiiis_ hand. Just what interesting _deveeeelopment_ have occurred after he left to get _yoouuu_, the perpetrator?"

Still maintaining the flirty smile, she set down her empty cup and leaned back into her backrest, relaxing her stiff body while still maintaining her guard, having already employed a few Souls in the area to her service while Roswaal was talking in case things go horribly wrong.

"I was dead, punished for what I did, and Papa brought me baaaack to life. His mama left me to die of hypothermia after destroying my haaaand." She answered plainly, putting the wand on her lap before pulling off her glove, revealing the brown hand she was given as part of her rebirth. Despite her Uncle's assurance, it has not regained its physical sensations despite many days. "Pretty, ain't it? He made me a new one while I was sleeping. He said it was made it out of fingers and meat from the baaaad doggies."

"The ulgarms, you mean." The lord inferred.

"Mm hm." To illustrate, she sprouted out long claws out of her fingertips and wiggled them before retracting, telling of the abominable structure it was made of as well as the unique capabilities witchbeasts are capable of. "I don't know if Papa killed them all or not but we kept 3 bad doggies just in case, making little bad doggies in case we need them for somethiiiing. New bad animals are gonna takeover, you knooow. Territory's free game now that they're gooone. But since _I _am here, I'll make sure they don't do craaaaaazy things. Even if the barrier's broken again, I'll tell them not to goooo."

"Then I'm _veeery_ happy to hear that!" Roswaal clapped his hands in celebration, "With your _eeeeefforts_, the village of Earlham can _fiiiiinally_ hunt for game without the danger of the witchbeasts."

She reflected his enthusiasm on her face, smiling brightly, hiding the contradicting emotion behind it while nonchalantly drawing out the bone kris from her belt with her left hand and resting it on her lap. "I'm glad you got something out of Papa's blood, sweat and teeears. Or maybe I should say reeed tears? We do cry blood, even though it's not blood, just colored differently but whateveeeer. Don't forget his voice box too, he's been using the ghosties to talk siiiiince losing it!"

This time, the maid did flinch. She had maintained her chatty and amicable tone, speaking as if she was talking about someone else's achievements that lacked any horrid details. Meili was a good actor, a testament of her time as an assassin infiltrating many places in her past occupation.

Still, even if she didn't drew the kris out, what she said gave away what was boiling beneath her. And the clown of a lord knew what it was.

"You're angry…." He said in a low tone, lacking any drawl. His smile was still there, but a firm grimace now crossed his features covered in makeup, "….angry for Ser Emurdol."

Even if it's now exposed, her flirty smile, diction full of sugar, and her inviting gaze did not leave her face. It tenaciously planted itself on her face like a poison flower, "I'm talking to one of the people who hurt Papa, how else would I feeeel?"

"And the _neeeeeerve_ you have to be angry on the behalf of your _viiiictim_ and point fingers at us as the ones to blame for what _haaaaappened_ to him."

"I know very well that _everything_ was my faauuult." She pointed out, "I staaaarted it, after all. If I haven't been there, there would not have been any iiiiincident. He would not have to go back inside the forest and lose his throat or even go there in the first place. If only I have met him sooner before I broke the baaarrier….."

Then, hostility.

Her floating hair began waving and swishing from an unseen wave in front of her, her olive green eyes glowed maliciously like a torchlight, and her smiling blunt teeth full of shiny white started morphing, slightly extending; sharp canines that characterized the ulgarm. The mana in the air and from multiple sources were being siphoned to her core, tainted and processed in the same way she was taught, turning it into energy only her kind could use, and it leaked out of her form, enshrouding her in auras of green like a slow-moving fire.

"….I could have saved him from Blue Maidy."

This was the only time her voice dropped an octave, a dark emotion slipping out of her persona before her smile began exhuming amicability and hostility in a bizarre unity again.

Spikes began growing out of her right hand's joints while it held the kris, her left gripping the bone wand tightly, clicking and snapping according to the erratic movements of the Souls she employed that nobody could see except Meili.

The maids acted accordingly to what she's doing. Blue drew out that flail while Red drew a thin little stick from her thigh, a magic wand of her own. Whether they remember what harming her would do to everyone in this mansion or not, she's satisfied not knowing.

Besides, her Papa did enjoy tormenting people for their stupidity.

_..…I do too._

"But the way the incident was handled ain't something I'm gonna let go. The villagers were supposed to report if the barrier is broken, and they didn't. Papa was trying to solve the incident, _somebody_ tried to stop him. _Somebody_ was supposed to stop Blue Maidy from doing anything stupid, look what happened. _Somebody_ warned Red Maidy to keep Blue Maidy from doing anything stupid, what good did that do?"

Then her hostility sapped away like an eye blink; her hair subjected to gravity, her eyes returning to a dim light and her form containing the surging power within her. She transitioned from a menacing threat in the form of a darling little girl into a mere child holding bone instruments as if they were toys.

This one moment of herself being vulnerable gave her the only opportunity to speak her mind without emulating the persona of Elsa.

"The way I see it thoouuugh…._It's all Blue Maidy's fault_."

Red stomped her foot, creating the loudest snap in the reception area and her form was enshrouded in a cloud of wind energy with her hand aimed towards Meili's direction. "Kindly take back your words, Honored Guest!"

_Big mistaaaake~!_

Meili tilted her head to her direction, visibly unthreatened but she returned the courtesy of being hostile, reemphasizing the Necromagus image on her person, "Are you saying I'm wrooong, Red Maidy?"

"Don't even think about being blind of your own actions." She retorted coldly, "Do not even think your deeds are less significant than Rem's. _You_ were the sole cause of everything wrong that happened. If only you haven't been there, none of those things would have happened to Ser and to Rem!"

This time, Meili's malice was bare in her wicked smile, aiming the point of her kris at her right thigh.

"Then she should not have been a _shitty _maidy like you."

The wind blade flew.

A rift in reality opened.

The kris sunk down into flesh.

Three occurrences happening at once and the effects were instantaneous: the thrown spell was sapped away; the rift allowing one of the employed Souls to break out and devour the wind blade, making its misshapen form visible for a milisecond; and sharp ivory stained with dry blood sinking into Meili's thigh.

What the two maids weren't expecting was that the sensation of pain that came with it happening on _their _thighs as well, including the open wound. In the exact same place on the right thigh, they suffered the agony and crumpled to one knee in yelps of pain, dropping their weapons and nursing the copiously bleeding wound, the flesh within horribly shredded for no apparent reason.

Afterwards, the venom found on the dried blood of the wavy blade began spreading from the wound and flowed slowly across their entire bodies, visible white skin marred with branching black veins. Blue's attempt to heal halted, the excruciating sensation disrupting her mental focus as her body locked up suddenly, freezing her in the stance of gripping her thigh with one hand while the other was ready to cast water magic. Red fell rigid to the floor on her side ungracefully when she reached out to her sister, concerning her safety over her own, only to fall short of her reach as her body locked up as well.

The only sound present were the rapid rattling of her wand, and the choking and the rasped breathing. Their entire body down to the jaw was locked in place, but their untouched throat and lungs indicated the mercy given to let them breath, allowing them to live and _feel _every lick of pain. It overpowered the sound of flesh squelching, coming from the ivory knife that was slowly twisted side to side and buried on the small thigh, slowly digging deeper into the meat as it's held by a brown hand adorned with many dreadful spikes.

Compared to the two, Meili's _not _bleeding or suffering any complications from the venom.

Under Papa's tutelage, she was taught to make her own brand of poison. When not using her beasts to put down a target, witchbeast poison is her second option. She was once too frail to properly wield even a knife, so she settled to one of the old and simple but practical tools for the job. Being a seemingly cute and innocent little girl, it's practically _easy _to get under someone's guard and nick them with a needle. Learning how to make her own concoctions was almost a delight with her Papa, especially when he readily accepted her challenge to recreate the recipe she made herself with one hand before she could with both hands.

Her handcrafted poison isn't as lethal as his blood, but she made sure it replicated what Papa's poison had done to her before her first death. It doesn't match the function to decimate the immune system, merely causing agony and locking up muscles but it _did _immobilize her victims, plus there was the black veins.

The Curse of the Iron Maiden, a reality-warping incantation that partially enforces one rule from the Spectral Realm to this world; mutuality. The maids already carried it since they made Meili talk back at the gate, and now they are experiencing firsthand what a fundamental rule of reality so alien to this side of life would do to people: if Meili is hurt, it is _natural _to share the torment for her sakes.

The distinct difference, however, was that she's no longer susceptible to the sufferings of poison anymore, especially the ones she made. Her revival from the death by one of the worst toxins known to existence validated that.

Even if it hurts, even if twisting the knife made her grit her teeth, even if the bloody tears forced themselves out of her sockets without her consent, she did not wane from projecting the product Emurdol Viandegroc's guidance have borne fruit to: a little terror in the making, showing the worse she could do.

Full of smiles filled with sharp teeth and glowing eyes crying blood, Meili continued where she left off, "Just how much did Papa lose for Blue Maaaiiiidy? Time? Patience? Faith? A throat? 65 years of his liiiiife?"

The kris' point was directly touching her thigh bone, making her pause a bit in her twisting and digging.

"He was only here to rest for 5 days and you can't give him eeeeven _that_? Are you just that bad at controlling your servants or does Blue Maidy simply haaaaate Papa?"

She kept her stare trained on Roswaal the whole time, even before Red confronted her with her spunk. Even with the overwhelming pain on her thigh, the staring contest with the lord is still happening.

The nobleman himself was consistent in poise and expression as she is, still as a statue in his position, placing his ankle atop his knee and interlocking his fingers atop his lap and never breaking his mismatched gaze of yellow and blue from her.

His smirk had diminished lightly but it was still there. It carried the flare that he was _still _in control, and Meili complimented this man for his composure despite the harm being done to his servants. He _is _the Court Mage of Lugnica, but even he should know what harming her would mean if he does anything stupid like Red did.

"Did Ser Emurdol tell you to rub it in our faces?" He asked grimly and lowly. "Was that the message you bear with you?"

Did Papa tell her to make sure the people in the mansion realize the full extent of the damages they made, directly or indirectly?

"_No_." The answer was dull and toneless, devoid of her usual sweetness. "For two weeks since he adopted me, I was loved, fed, taught, and cared for, spoiled like a little deeaad princess. He never actually told me _anything _about what he went through because of yooouu all. He only told me little things about everybody heeeere. Emily was iiinocent. Pucky was cuuute. Betty was aloooof. Rosy was fuuuny. Red Maidy Rami was hoooonest. And Blue Maidy Remi was _annoooooying. _But when I was dead, alone and scared in the Afterlife before Papa gave me a new life, _Angels _showed me what my actions leeeeed to. Aaaah, how Papa was hurt….Blue Maidy would not leave him alone _before_ I even did anythiiiing in the village."

_Angels_ who were complete demons in their living life, except for Uncle Viandegroc who was yet to become one but still. They were anomalies who deserved to die for what they did to Papa, still the same people who destroyed her shameful and bland, empty self, creating a blank slate that she had been carefully filling up to this day.

As of now, she's fulfilling her role as her father's daughter avenging his honor.

So she pressed down the kris on her thigh bone, _trying _to break one of the hardest parts of the human body. The sensation was funny, and it's going to be a lot less funny when it simply cracks. Judging by the struggling chokes of the two maids increasing, they knew what they were in for.

"I am his cute baby girl, after aaaaall." This time, she no longer smiled. Her red tears continually dripped on her jet black long sleeves, and there was no stain to be seen on the colorless fabric. "You hurt my Papa and I am very very very _very_ aaaaangry. The others are okay, they did nothing wroooong. But you, Rosy, what can you doooo? After everything that happened to my Papa, especially when he and his Mama are now having a fight because of Blue Maidy, how will you pay him baaaack? Hm? How? He even wanted to commit suicide when he cannot talk anymore after waaaaking up. How are you gonna compensate?"

Her thigh bone felt like it was starting to get displaced from her leg, if that was even possible, and _pain _was starting to erupt from it, a testament of her increasing pressure down on it just to spite them, making her red tears flow even harshly down her face. If she was allowed to show a hint of anger, this was her means of conveyance.

She won't grace them with the standard show of anger. She falls to her fiery emotions just like _anybody else _and **everyone** in this mansion, including herself, will be suffering a lot more than a stabbed thigh. With power like this, emotions are an impairment and _dangerous _to her wellbeing. Papa had a good reason to take her freewill away from her. She learned that lesson very well after lashing out from annoyance with pent up energies brimming up inside her while many Souls were in the vicinity.

Her anger is not a simmer—no it is **_absolutely _**not. It is a forest fire _literally _trying to break out of her body by splitting it apart and destroying the entire mansion the sooner the incarnation of her emotions escapes. She did not stab her thigh just to make a warning from harming her, this was a means to distract herself from her own fiery emotions and to keep herself from exploding in a mess of blood and gore. Despite her discovered prodigious aptitude to the dark arts, her abilities of Emotion Suppression vital to her _survival_ was still novice.

Despite being with him for nearly two weeks, his warm behavior around the young Necromagus gave her the heart to grow the daughterly love and fondness she now has for Emurdol Viandegroc. Meili reciprocated her father's feelings very dearly, and her fury out of what happened to him because of these people is not something she could hold down without the cost of pain.

But that all depends on Roswaal's response. If his answer doesn't satisfy her…..well, she can tell Papa that the people of this mansion are a lost cause. They're better off rotting as recyclable supplies for her training.

"I will take responsibility." Roswaal responded solemnly.

Her eyes narrowed, letting more red to leak out, holding back her knife from digging any further just so she could listen carefully.

He stood up from his sofa and _knelt to one knee, bowing his head and putting his hand to his chest. _"The faults of the servant falls to the master, therefore let me bear their sins and suffer the consequences so please, spare my precious staff from your wrath. I am a man of my word, and I have promised the right compensation for Emurdol's efforts. If that can satisfy you, then I shall do so with the limits of my power."

Meili was speechless, but her face betrayed nothing like always, a firm line on her lips while the tears ran. She did not expect the Court Mage of Lugnica, greatest of all magicians in the Nation, to readily throw away his pride like that for someone like her, especially when she had enacted an incident that made things even worse for her father. Even someone like Roswaal should know that. Now that he's actually taking responsibility, Meili isn't sure how to react anymore. She expected resistance—hell, she wanted him to retaliate in the behalf of his precious staff, tell her that she has no authority to expect any apology from him—she wanted him to give her a reason to lash out at everyone here.

…._I wasn't really expecting this to go well, did I? Papa did tell me to expect nothing but still…._

With a resigned sigh, she stopped the mana siphoning, pulled the kris out of her thigh without the slightest wince, no fresh bloodstain coating the blackened ivory and held it in-between her teeth. Gone was the dangerous little dark mage of floating hair and glowing eyes. Now she's reduced to a weary little girl fresh from showing off a talent with a thousand people watching. There wasn't any thrill or fulfillment that should come with it since Papa isn't even among the audiences but the satisfaction was enough.

Taking a little bottle out of a small bag behind her waist and a small pouch of bone dust, she turned the latter over and spilled out the contents above her lap, the white powder floating like a cloud under her will before each particle conjoining together into one mass. Eventually, it formed the upper half of an ulgarm's skull.

Popping the cap of her bottle off, she poured a slight amount of the red healing liquid down the skull with a bowl-like structure before bringing the rear part of it to her lips, drinking half of the bitter liquid to get rid of the pain and headache before pouring the rest on the gaping hole on her thigh that stubbornly refused to bleed, closing it as if time was rewound.

_Too bad I can't do Reconstruction very well except for scratches._

Feeling it perfectly healed as she twisted and extended her leg, leaving only a small slit of a scar, she rose up to her feet without trouble and slotted the kris held in her teeth back to her belt before walking over to the pair of frozen maids. Setting down the bottle and the skull to the floor, she took out her wand and hovered her spiky brown hand sporting long talons above Blue's steadily-bleeding thigh. Shaking the wand in a calm pace, Meili watched carefully as the visible black veins on the maid's pale flesh, especially her neck and face, slowly receded back to the point it started, returning her beauty back to the way it was.

As a fair field of white was there again, the mobility in them was slowly coming back. Facial muscles are given back their freedom and the first expression made was a crease of her brow. No surprise there, the pain is still present. Her poisons aren't that soft even if cured. Moving would still hurt, like blood flowing back in bloodless limbs.

Everything above the chest now unlocked and free of blight, her arms can now move as they slacked on her sides. Her unharmed leg now mobile, Blue fought to stay upright in her kneeling despite the lingering pain and Meili was impressed for the maid's fortitude. She didn't even whimper. Standing up alone is _painful_.

A whole minute later, her entire body is free of the black taint and they seeped out of her wounded thigh in the form of oozing, disgusting black liquid that defied gravity and instead floated to the cupping hand of witchbeast flesh.

Leaning back, Meili waved her outstretched finger in a circle around the blob of venom, ignoring the maid collapsing on her side to ease her nerves and relax her cramping body as she healed her thigh. The blight spiraling like a hurricane in the center of her twirl, it slowly morphed into a floating black ball of toxin mixed with the maid's blood.

Tapping the toxic orb with her finger, rippling from her touch and leaving it there to float, she sheathed her wand before picking up the skull and bottle. Pouring only half since the maid already healed her thigh, she held Blue's cheek in mocking tenderness and had her face the skull.

"Drink up and the pain will say bye-byyyeee~~" She crooned with an equally mocking motherly smile, stroking her tiny thumb across her supple cheek as she neared the rim of the skull to Blue's soft lips. "It's the same one Papa used to clean you uuuup~~"

Blue complied wordlessly and without any resistance, even pulling the skull to her lips and drinking from it, her face scrunching up from the bitter taste.

Her subservience only killed Meili's inclination to play around. Resistance is sometimes the crux of the fun and she won't be having any of that now. Taking her hand away and leaving her to hold the skull herself, the necromagus grabbed the floating black orb with her talons and knelt down close to Red's stabbed thigh, repeating the process of shaking the wand and nearing the poisonous ball to the opening, gathering more blight and increasing its size.

"Um…" Meili turned her bleeding eyes to her left, having finished the extraction and leaving Red's mobile body to writhe pathetically on the floor, having the least amount of fortitude compared to Blue. The latter herself was now knelt before Meili, holding the skull and the bottle in both hands, "…how much should Rem pour?"

Suddenly having her cooperation was still baffling but she went along with it, "Half." She answered, suddenly emulating Papa. When he isn't explaining something, his words are short and straight to the point in that monstrous voice.

Resting Red's head on her lap, Blue raised up her head and neared the brim of the skull to her lips. While that happened, Meili took the bottle and poured some on the gaping thigh, healing the shredded flesh and closing the wound, the red liquid spilling to the carpeted floor.

Putting the cap back on, she swiped the skull off Blue's hands the sooner it was empty with full disrespect in movements, leaving the latter surprised and Red infuriated, the poison orb following around her like a planet.

She suddenly stopped mid-step before she reached the couch, "Oh, almost forgooot."

Finished with pocketing her bottle and reducing the skull back to dust inside the pouch, she drew out her wand again and shook it close to her ear, the fingers and the small skull rattling rapidly.

With a loud snap that gave the impression of finality, she slotted it back to her belt. With the thorny joints of her brown hand, she gave superficial cuts to her palm by brushing her left one against it. Looking behind her, she saw the two maids looking at their own left palms, expecting to be cut as well but found none.

They were now free of the Curse.

"There." With that done, she flopped down back to the sofa and slacked against it, putting the attention back to the original point of her presence, reconstructing her palm while so. "Now, as for that messaaage…."

"That display of cruelty _waaaasn't_ the message?" Roswaal asked with a smile, his voice raised in mock-incredulity and mock-horror, "Just what other _hoooorror_ do you have in _stoooore_ for us?"

She flashed him a cute but cruel smile, speaking in suggestive tones, "Oh, you'll know soooon." She learned more than simple curses wrought by simple knowledge. Though she is a lesser necromagus, she still has a handful of surprises to show but for now, Papa's orders come first. "But all that was just me veeenting. Now, as I were saaaaying….Papa wants to come back."

She set aside her usual self and projected the image of a proper Priest of the Serpent in the making, "He promised that he will work to help Emily before and he's going to stay true to his word. He sent me here to warn you all of this, but right now, he's currently under recovery." Sparing a glance to Blue, she continued, "He's willing to forgive Blue Maidy, and he wants to forgive and forget all that has happened two weeks ago. Too much grudge in his thoughts won't make him function properly. Not only that, it will cause too much trouble to everybody around here. That won't help in Emily's fight for the throne either."

"Then we shall weeelcome him again with open aaarrrms and a proper apology." The clowny noble's expression was full of delight and accomplishment it almost looked like the recent _disagreement _minutes ago didn't even happen. This man could easily manipulate the atmosphere with his very _presence_. "Pray teeeell, when can we expect him to come baaack?"

Her smile began emanating a sardonic air, borderline sadistic, "When he's _ready_ to forgiiiive. He _wants_ to but that doesn't mean he _can _riiiight now. Papa's heart is still broken, and I know he's staying away because he'll kill Blue Maidy the sooner he sees her agaaaaiiin."

"How considerate." The lord commented, "Is that _aaaall_?"

She stood up, speaking with full conviction, "Papa demands amnesty for my sakes from you. The Meili Portroute who enacted the witchbeast incident is _dead_. You won't see her, _ever_ again. My new name is Meili Sinnuldel, apprentice to Emurdol Viandegroc, my Papa, and I have the right to act on his behalf."

"Granted." Standing up, Roswaal's grim face and tall height suddenly made him project a different air compared to the usual clowny one before. It made the atmosphere stiff too, as if Meili stood in the presence of a King. For all its worth, it finally made him fit the title of Court Mage of Lugnica. He raised up a white gloved hand and spoke in a solemn tone, "By the power invested in me as the Lord of this domain, I, Roswaal L. Mathers, hereby pardon the crimes of Meili Portroute and welcome you, Meili Sinnuldel, to my household and those close to you without a price."

This time, the necromagus' sweet smile was genuine, the bleeding tears nothing more than an aesthetic. "Just don't get in my way and all of us can be best friends, okaaay?" She clapped her hands together with her wand after putting her glove back on her right hand, "Okay, now that we're done here, I'm gonna go get a baaaath. Don't worry about showing me my rooooom, I'll take the one Papa uuuused." She already set herself walking on to the guest quarters.

"I'm _preeetty_ sure that would have _beeeeen_ my suggestion even if you didn't ask." He replied with amusement, eyeing her all the way.

"Oh waaaiiit…" Meili stopped herself mid-step again, looking over her shoulder and looking at Roswaal directly in his yellow eye, "Papa wanted to know….when Blue Maidy finally woke up from the poison, did you make sure she was rested and stay in bed like a good giiiirl?"

"Well, _yeeeees_." He confirmed her father's expectations in a matter-of-factly tone. "Despite her protests and objections, we practically _impriiiisoned_ her in her room for the sake of her _heeeaaalth_. Rem _haaas_ been through so much, after aaall…not as much as your beloved _faaather_, of course."

Pursing her lips and olive green eyes flashing lightly, she nodded in acknowledgement and walked away, fully aware that her demeanor is starting to look different compared to before but she didn't care. She just walked on.

The internal horror was nowhere visible on her face, even if no one has a direct view of her face.

_I was supposed to ask that _first_ before I give the message. Oh nooo…if they have said 'no' after everything I've said, it would have been soooo embarrassing!_

_I was supposed to get out and shun the place if they said 'no'….…..if they don't care about their servants then it would have been okay for me to be a bad girl and kill them…_

A bright blush flowed across her entire face of pure white, her glowing eyes threatening to overpower the color of red as the mortifying realization hit her.

_….lucky me they said 'yes'…..aaaahh, that would have been sooooooooooo embarrassing!_

Just how _much_ of a close-call that was could not be any funnier than it already is.

"Hihihihihihihi~!" Her giggle had the strength to overpower even the worst ice spells running down people's spines, and her brightly glowing eyes matching the might of a bonfire exposed the beginning of her fun.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Ram scowled after the young girl's back, eventually disappearing into a turn of a corner and into the hallway. She turned to her master, "Lord Roswaal, was that wise?"

"Of _cooouurse_." Roswaal sang, nonchalant over the successful evasion of a violent spat from happening, "It's not like we would want _aaaaaaany_ repeat of what happened, do _weeeee_? Besides…even if she released _yooouu_ and Rem from sharing her pain, who's to _saaaay_ I don't?"

Her shocked expression slowly morphed into a grimace, fuming from the inside over how the girl had basically one-upped everyone in the room.

"That little one thought _eeeeverything_ through." Roswaal attempted to elaborate what she was thinking, "She gave you both a false sense of opportunity when she dispelled that curse. You thought to apprehend her, didn't you? If you had, however, what happens to her happens to _me_ too. Considering how she's willing to harm herself, I would not be surprised if she purposely provokes you into hurting her no matter what punishment you have in mind."

Conflicted and still feeling rundown by the guilt trip she received, Rem turned to Roswaal with an uneasy face, "What will we do, Lord Roswaal?"

"_Exaaaactly_ as intended, Rem." The lord cryptically answered, "We follow her demands _aaaand_ accommodate her wishes so our Ser _Emuuuurdol_ can come back. Oh, and _Reeeem_?"

The little sister stood ramrod straight, ready for any demand, "Yes?"

For the rarest of times to ever happen, Roswaal spoke with a very firm and demanding tone, pointing a finger at her, sending an unbearable wave of pressure on her person just by being the receiving end of it and his stern gaze.

"_No more_ independent actions, okay?"

She bit her lip, looking down on her feet, "…Yes, Lord Roswaal."

"Very good!" The lord's mood was very quick to turn a 180, clapping his hands in the air, "Now that we're _doooone_ here, I'll return to my study. Ram, Rem, be kind to our guest, okay?"

"As you wish." Ram bowed automatically.

"….I shall." Rem bowed lightly, eyes downcast and staring at nothing.

Both sisters kept their heads lowered while their master went away, and when Roswaal was no longer within ear shot and his footsteps no longer heard, their postures straightened and Rem quickly went over to weep on her sister's shoulder, accepting the consoling hugs and head pats.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

With a song and a wand in hand, Meili danced her way over to the room of the heiress, hums and clicks accompanying her presence. A little sway to her hips here, a big swing of her body there—just a little something she's learned from festival dances and other assignments she participated in. Since she's got nothing better to do, she might as well do this to pass the time. Besides, the feeling of power is sometimes too hard to compress, especially when she dominated that room. It felt like she could do anything and nobody's going to stop her, not even the people of great power living in this place.

She's well aware of the anguish she caused to that blue maid, and frankly, she could care less. She had a close look of the hurt goes through her Papa's mind every single day before coming here. She could have been apathetic about it but a knot kept forming in her gut whenever she's aware of it, compelling her to be concerned, and she's getting sick of it. Doing this much should get rid of that knot for good. Papa would approve….maybe.

She paused in the song and dance, pondering it carefully.

He might not take well to having the opportunity to get back at the maid being taken away from him when the damage is already done. Her orders don't include attacking the maid in any way.

….

…...

…...…

"Nah, he'll forgive meeeee. I'm his sweet baby giiiirl, after all." With all the carefreeness her age could allow, she dismissed any possible consequences and went on her way, resuming the beat.

"_~Meili knocks on the door, posing like the poor~  
~comes the kindly couple with bouncy kids of four~  
~Poor, sweet Meili, why you out so late~  
~They let her in the household, easily taking the bait~_

_~Cry, cry, little Meili cried~  
~Weeping, bawling, said she got rejected~  
~Mama and papa left her, left to rot and die~_

_~They pity little Meili, they give her drink and food~  
~Warm clothes and a comfy bed, she's in a happy mood~  
~Good night, sleep tight, they snuffed the candlelight~  
~Pitter-patter goes the floor, the witchbeast came to bite~_

_~Cry, cry, the kiddies cried~  
~Mama and Papa, they suddenly died~  
~Gone little Meili, with a sweet goodbye~_"

With a final click-clack of the wand, the song reached its end.

She blew a raspberry. "_Lame_. Too ugly. Too normal, gotta be more catchy." She holstered her wand, pulled off her glove and rubbed her brown thumb against her cheek, feeling the leather while she pondered over something. "Think the kiddies became slaves now….or maybe they starved….hmm….wait, did I have the cursies eat them too? Or was Elsa there?"

She sighed, having enough of the theatrics and putting her glove on. She's out of ideas and getting bored, plus she has orders. She should just be quick and do them before she gets to do whatever wants before night arrives.

First.

"Puckyyyy, I know you're there….." Her Papa told her of a Spirit that has the half-elf as a daughter, is very tiny and adorable but is one of the Apocalypse Beasts. As soon as she walks past the mansion gates, she must expect Puck to be watching her, especially this instant. "Papa told me about you, so come out and let me pet your fluffy fuuuur."

"Aw, and I was about to make a cool entrance or something." An androgynous voice remarked, blue lights materializing in front of her before they solidified into a cute and tiny silver-furred cat with a tail as long as its entire body. "How'd you know I was here?"

"KYA!" She was instantly squealing with delight, reaching forward and grabbing Puck out of the air, hugging the Spirit to her face, rubbing her cheek against him. "YOU ARE SO CUTE, I WANNA KEEP YOU AND TAKE YOU TO BED WITH MEEEEE!"

The Spirit giggled at her unrestrained affection, weakly pushing against her soft cheek, "No! No! We just met, kiddo! You gotta take me out to dinner first!"

"Okay!" Meili held Puck at arm's reach, exposing lots of sharp teeth with her sweet smile, "It's a tryst! Once I get my chores done, let's go pick flowers from the field I saw out there and make a bouquuuueeet! And when we're done, let's go to the village and eat an appa togetheeeer, and then let's go make a skeleton together when we get baaaack!"

Puck blinked, "Okay, everything was going well until the last one." He finally squirmed out of her grasp and floated in front of her, arms crossed, "Fess up, kid. I know you're going to Lia's room. What are you trying to do?"

Meili hid her hands behind her back, scuffing her shoe on the floor while blushing, emulating the poise of a girl meeting her crush, "To find yooouu~"

"I'm flattered. And what's the _other _reason you wanna go to her room?"

The blushing young girl disappeared, and in its place is a Wyrmm digging her way to the surface to become a fully-fledged Serpent. "On Papa's behalf, I'm here to thank Emily for helping him figure out a cure for Blue Maidy's sickness weeks ago."

"Ah, that day." The Spirit had a proud smile on his lips, staring at the moment many days prior, "Yeah, proud of my daughter. Betty had a hand in it too. The way I see it, I think they should get a lot of credit for helping him figure out the solution."

"Then let's gooooo! Then we can thank Betty together right aaaaafter." Meili went to jog on forward, going around the Spirit.

"Wait!" Puck quickly floated back to her front, holding up a tiny paw as a stop. Meili froze obligingly, violating the laws of physics as she only had one foot on the ground on tiptoes _behind_ her, yet to alternate to the other foot as it is still bent and level to her thigh. "Apologize to Lia first before you give her the thanks. You _did _try to tarnish her honor by trying to kill the kids."

Meili frowned, pouting as she set her other foot down and placed the other one beside it. "Hey, at least they didn't diiiieee. Papa saved them _and_ her image before it got woooorse."

"Do it or you're never gonna pet me."

"Mmm…." Her mood now downtrodden, she only had a light pace as she headed for her destination.

Located at the third floor, found several paces from the right side of the hallway, she reached her room and knocked on the door with her gloved hand. Then she stood straight, placing the same hand atop the left one in front of her waist, her stare pointed upwards to where a person's face would be, considering her stature.

"Um, yes? Who is it?" The girl inside asked after no followed indication of who knocked.

"Lia? Somebody wants to see you." Puck gave Meili a short glance before continuing, "It's a guest."

"A guest!? Oh dear, and nobody told me!? Hold on, I think my hair is a bit muddled! And I don't think I look presentable at the moment!"

"No, Lia, it's okay. Just come out. I don't think this kid's gonna care about how you look, even if you're all covered in grunge."

"That's riiight!" Being desensitized to gore is one thing in her first life, things like filth and grunge, especially if she has to touch them, is another thing entirely. Apparently, it is also one of the things she must have for her role as an up-and-coming Priestess of the Serpent. Thankfully, being dead once allowed her to earn such mental conditioning easily. She even used her own vomit and poop when she experimented with her poisons without retching. "I'd like you more if you're all covered in blooooood! That'll make me want to hug you lots till you squeeze out some mooore!"

_My days, that made me sound like Elsa._

Distaste colored her face for a moment, shuddering from a chill running down her spine and she gripped her arm to calm down. Her anger just sparked there, and she almost _failed _to hold it down.

_Easy, Meili. Don't get cranky and just puff cheeks. Like Papa said, pretend you don't know how to be cranky and are trying to. Grrrr…..grrr…..grrr…_

A hand held her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Her olive eyes widened, the harsh glow in them dimming quickly, consciousness lashing back to the world and she realized that the occupant of the room had already opened the door and was now looking at her with concern, having a pale hand resting on her left shoulder.

She never seen an elf in her life, even if half-blooded, but she hadn't expected more besides just pointy ears. Her voice is as clear as a bell, and she equaled Meili with her pale features; silky silver hair in two braids and smooth porcelain white skin. Even with a simple pink pajama dress, it becomes her quite well. She's very pretty too, and while Papa told her to never care about the flesh, she found her amethyst eyes to be beautiful and a bit envious of them.

_So this is Emily, the silly half-elf Papa told me about._

Meili's new signature smile, now returned to human blunt teeth and sweet as sugar, is put on. She twirled her braid with her left index finger, "Oh, sorryyy! Just got a little lost in my heeeaaad. The voice said I should puff _cheeeeks_."

Lying is now beneath her and she shall never do so again, her Papa said. But he _also _said that Exact Words are as magicalas the wonders they both can do. She must be creative in order to exploit it, and in this case: it's her own voice that told her to puff cheeks. Therefore, it's not a lie.

"Voices?" Instead of finding it weird, Emily was _sincere _in her surprise, "What kind of voices? Are you a Spirit Mage too?"

Meili's smile disappeared, only gaping for how _gullible _the half-elf actually is. Papa had told her of this quirk but she didn't know at what extent that was.

She closed her mouth and gulped, retaining as much composure and poise she could before she embarrasses herself and clicked the rhythm of greetings with her wand before putting it back to her belt, "Nice to meet you, my name is Meiliiiii Sinnuldel. You must be Emily, riiiighht?"

"Emily?" Emily expressed surprise at the butchery of her name, "No. It's Emilia."

"Emilyyyy." She got her confirmation, so she nodded. "Okay, nice to metchaaaa too."

"It's Emil_ia_!"

Meili failed to acknowledge the correction and bowed, head lowered just enough to be level to her chest. "Low as it looks, I ask for forgiveneeeesss."

"Eh?" Now the half-elf is surprised for a sudden show of apology without even the context known to her. "Wha…why are you apologizing?"

Wryly smiling, she explained herself, "Remember that little incident when the kids were cursed by witchbeastiiiiees? That was meeeee. I was responsible for what haaaaapened."

Silence. A rather stiff silence.

"If you hate me for that, thaaaat's okay." Her voice was casual as ever, sweet but not amiable. She kept her head down the whole time, looking at her own feet. "But I was already punished for what I did if that makes you feel any beeeeeetter." She pulled the cuff of her glove down just a bit of her replaced flesh, "Seeee? I was just following orders but I don't think that's gonna heeeelp much. The thing is, I'm giving up on contract killing and I'm cleaning up my act as a good giiiirl. Just wanna say I'm sooorry."

She clearly sounds insincere, especially with her rather low tone of voice that's barely trying to sound regretful.

Suddenly, her hands were suddenly held by Emily's own, making her lift up her head and stare back at a sympathetic pair of amethyst eyes. "But you didn't do it all by your own initiative, did you? If somebody else made you do it, then I don't think you should apologize for that. I'm just happy that you decided to turn a new leaf so all is well." She then smiled. Though it is small, it would effectively set a heart on fire.

Inwardly, Meili was cringing back at such words. Papa had told her that Emily has a kind heart that could borderline _stupid_, and it shows. If somebody is _willing_ to do such things without hesitation and do not regret it, they don't deserve any sympathy. This girl's clearly too softhearted to feel real malice.

Still, she can't lie that the genuine mercy she received is actually refreshing.

Smiling, she held out her arms towards Emily, beckoning her over for a hug. She perfectly emulated the image of a daughter asking for a lift from her parent.

Strangely, Emily's giving her a hesitant look, shooting unsure glances towards Puck and back to her. Meili was very certain that this was a rather enthralling gesture, especially from a cute girl like herself. It even worked once on an assignment. "Um….is it okay for me to embrace you? Even though I'm a—"

"Oh, just accept the hug already, Lia!" Puck snapped, "This kid already knows what you are. If you don't give it to her, you'll just make her cry."

Ah, yes. She remembers. Half-elves don't exactly get the most respect from lots of people, and this girl's no different. No wonder she's hesitating. She doesn't receive affection like this aside from Puck, her only trusted other, especially from a stranger. It might be possible that not even this mansion's servants seems to genuinely _care_ for her. No wonder Papa gave her the option to abandon it if they had said no.

"Uh…here." With uncertain movements, Emily knelt down and entered into her arms, allowing her to wrap them around the half-elf's neck while the latter wraps hers around her chest. Meili gave her little pats on the back and a bit of a squeeze while Emily did nothing else.

Doesn't even know how to hug right, poor thing. Meili leaned back and gave a kiss to her cheek, making a loud pop and hugging her again, "That was a thank you from Papa, Emily. What you said really helped when he made the antidote for Blue Maidy."

"Eh?" Emily drew back from the hug, holding Meili at arm's length, "Wait, that sounds as if you're…."

"You hear, Lia? Emurdol actually adopted this kid." Puck made the facts clear, indicating to Meili with a paw, "And I think they're perfect with each other. You see the resemblance, right? White hair and the glowy green eyes, especially that little wand on her belt."

She let her olive green eyes flash briefly, just so Emily could see how close she and her Papa are now. "We also share blood toooooo. After that, we exchanged vows and very much in love like a little married cooouuuple!" While holding her blushing cheeks and swaying side to side, green energy leaked out of her form and gave her body an otherworldly sensation of being groped. Emotions are a danger but there are some emotions that aren't generally lethal. She can handle this much, "We think about each other everyyyyday~"

"Aw, that's sweet." Emily looked at the left hallway, then to the right. Back to the left, then to the right again just for good measure, she faced the wiggling and blushing Meili and asked, "Um, where's Emurdol now?"

She froze, lowered her hands and looked to the side, smiling wryly, "Not heeere. He's….a little buuuusy. He and his mama had a fiiiiiiight. They need some space away from each other foooor a while. It'll be alright, they'll be back together in tiiiiime." At least that's what Papa said. He said that he'll forgive her in time, he's just not sure when.

"Oh no. What happened to them?" Concern filled Emily's eyes, "Why'd they fight?"

Olive green eyes snapped to face the half-elf, disbelief coloring the dim light. For a moment, there was a stiff silence, turning awkward, going on for a whole minute, and the Spirit Mage pair started to shift in place, unsure how to continue.

Meili was as still as a statue for as long as it did, never blinking or visibly breathing, and before a very unnerved Emily could ask if she's alright, the latter's suddenly mobile, shooting the spirit a visibly incredulous look.

_[She never knew?]_

The Spirit could read minds, Papa said. Time to test that theory.

Puck pursed his lips, giving her a knowing look and subtly shaking his head.

"Um…." Emily, overwhelmed by this pressuring silence, failed to realize the exchange.

Putting on her smile back on, Meili hugged Emily's waist briefly and went away to Papa's quarters, skipping childishly in her steps and humming a song. She left the half-elf completely lost in her own head, wondering what just happened.

She kept her smile on, even though what's within doesn't match.

_Emily doesn't know _anything_._

_Blue Maidy tried to kill Papa, she _doesn't _know. Papa hates Blue Maidy even though he saved her, she _doesn't _know. Grandma killed Blue Maidy because of that, she _doesn't _know. Blue Maidy feels bad because of what she done, she _doesn't _know. Because of that, Papa's now angry with Grandma, and _she doesn't know_!_

_I can't believe this Mansion! How innocent is Emily gonna be!?_

The final step of her skip ended in a stomp, a loud crack echoing in the silence of the hallway before she sighed and walked normally towards the room, two doors away from her. Her gloved hand stopped midway as it reached for the knob, her nose catching the smell of tea. Smiling, her blunt teeth turning sharp once again, she turned the knob and was proud of herself for correctly expecting Red to be inside, crossing her arms in the middle of the room. No tea in sight, however. The scent followed her anywhere.

She forgot that the skeletons that assisted in Blue's operation weeks ago had been left behind here, standing idly in the corner of the room, waiting for their master or another Necromagus to claim them.

"Did you clean up my room for meeee? Thank yooouu!" She held out her arms, beckoning Red for a hug, preparing a Nightmare Curse under her palms, "Come and get some huggiiees!"

"Ram will pass." Red dismissed, pointedly looking at her palms, as if she noticed the scheme. "The arms that are ever allowed to hold the cute and perfect Ram are Lord Roswaal's."

Her smile stretched wider when she heard the word 'perfect', showing more of her sharp teeth. She lowered her arms and put them behind her back, "What do you waaaant? Can it beeee quick? Because I wanna sleeeep. Papa and I did so much together, I didn't even sleeeeeep normally. And I miss sleeping on a beeeeeed. Practice heeeere, classes theeeere; experiment, experiment, Papa worked me to deaaath."

"Quite the father he is. And you still love him, despite that?" Red asked politely, impressively hiding her undertone of spite in her maid persona. "Does he make your heart burn whenever you think of him? As the culprit of the incident, it is highly doubted he would forgive you that easily."

Olive green eyes glowed, "Are you doubting Papa's love for meeee?"

"Ram doubts that he would simply let you off with a dead hand. Your dogs took away his voice, destroyed his trust in us or Rem, and his place in our mansion."

"Does Red Maidy think I or Papa _don't _knoooow that?" The honey quality of her voice devolved into a chilling drone, but the smile remained there. "Papa knows better than to blame meeeee. He _did _torture me thooouuuugh. He skinned open my back and took away my insiiiides…"

"And you're still in love with him, that you think about him the same he does about you? Can Ram trust that your claims that you two are mutually in love?" Red's words have been consistently polite and professional, never a hint of spite in them even though what's within is clearly otherwise. It was _amazing_. Papa had told her that Red was an _incompetent _maid, useless and weak. This performance from her threatened to debunk the claim. "Has he spared you from every little bit of his wrath that you are struck smitten when he found one of the leading causes of his losses that was you?"

"Every little second I think about Papa…." The sounds of the world grew silent, and it made Meili's hissy whispers as loud as a blade sliding out of a scabbard. "….I think of the ways I'll cut him open and what I'll see insiiiide….." Her arms slowly reached up to hug herself, blushing hotly and wiggling in an unnervingly snake-like sway. Eye contact was never broken, and the glow became as bright as a lamp. "One day, I'll be able to open his chest and squeeeeze his heart." Her left hand reached up to her mouth, and an index finger went inside, her impossibly-red tongue rolling around it salaciously. "It'll be taaaasty, and we'll be together forever~"

She never made it clear if this is either a twisted form of affection for Papa or a blatant expression desire to pay back the pain she suffered under him. Not even Meili knows which one her heart desires. She cannot consider herself normal before her second life, and now it's even worse. She doesn't know what's _normal _anymore.

Red was very still, maintaining her crossed arms and glaring at her, but the disturbed flare in her eyes was enough to satisfy Meili that was dying to get something out of her.

"Papa _loved _me to biiiiits. Hugs, kisses and cuddles, I was spoiled rooootten." These things clashed magnificently against the spite she had for him. Whenever a fire builds up and was about to go out of control, Papa douses it just as quickly, "He hurts me, he teaches me; he cuts me, he guides me; he curses me, he holds me; insults me, keeeeeeps me."

An _explosion _erupted in the room, a sound reminiscent of a giant pane of glass breaking, nigh-deafening that the sound itself practically exploded in one's head and out the ears. The sheer _suddenness _of it was enough to force Red into a combative mindset, ducking down, drawing her wand and surrounding herself in a protective aura of cutting wind, looking over the room with wide crimson eyes, towards the skeletons in the corner or Meili herself rapidly.

However, nothing is out of place. The window is perfectly intact, the lamps are still glowing normally to indicate the time of day, and the empty vials Papa left behind are innocently sitting on the table just as the skeletons had left them. No glass in sight is ever cracked, chipped or shattered.

Slowly, the look of realization hit Red as she realized that she got played again by the same trick that amplified the sound of any object, including Meili's voice. That was why her breathless whispers and lapping sounds could be heard all over, and this maid is _still _surprised.

When Red dispelled her wind barrier, stashed away her wand and turned to her again, her throat was suddenly enclosed in a bulging brown hand, bone spikes growing out of the finger joints and an ivory kris held in the other, aiming at Meili's little white neck, digging into the flesh just enough to draw blood, though she didn't bleed. Underneath her palm, there is a little pin prick bleeding in the maid's neck.

The smile became feral, and the glow in her olive green eyes are as bright as the center of a fire. Her dialogue is now coated with passion and poison.

"Papa loves me with all his heart. I love him with all my _soul_. You can't understand that. Blue Maidy can't understand that. You're all empty, stuck and hopeless with your _loyalty _to your lord and master Rosy! You both will _never_ become like us! If you ever insult Papa or question our love for each other one more time, I'll make you and Blue Maidy lose your tongues and never eat _again_!"

Without warning, the skeletons became mobile. They grabbed her by the arms and shoulders, allowing Meili to release her before they manhandled her out the door, not a hint of gentleness in their movements as they threw her out the sooner they reached the portal, her petite body slamming to the wall. Red shot her a cold glare through the gaps of the skeletons' anatomy, holding her shoulder as she rose to her feet.

"If you want Papa to be any nicer to all of you than I am once he comes back, then Blue Maidy better give me a _good _explanation on _why_ she hurt him!"

And the door is slammed shut as a punctuation by the skeletons, cracking the wooden frame under the force of the blow.

"Grrr!" Quickly commanding the constructs to lock the door, have the curtains drawn and send the room to a dim lighting, the limited illumination provided by the time crystal hung from the wall, and she collapsed on her knees, quickly unbuttoning her black long-sleeved shirt.

Nearly shredding her right sleeves with her finger joint spikes before she retracted them, the clothing was thrown aside and revealing the purple lightning-like scars covering her white torso. They appeared to be freshly inflicted, _pulsing_ in a fast-paced rhythm, and they are currently spreading further to her neck and limbs, covering even more of her pale skin. Meili coughed into her brown palm, looking at the splatter of blood she left on it.

Drooling red, she punched the floor and elicited the sound of concrete shattering under the carpet. Her braid coming loose, spreading all over her face like a shredded white curtain, they barely concealed the red tears running down from her eyes.

There was no smile on her face, only a sharp sneer. Her teeth punctured her lower lip, and this time, they actually bled. Her breathing was wet, paced and shuddering. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, in tandem with the pulses of her condition, the needles in her veins becoming even more excruciating in every second.

The failure to suppress the fire only made the pain worse.

"Papa….how could you do this to meeeeeee…..!?"

She couldn't tell which is worse. The fact that she is suffering for her troubles of being angry for the person who done this to her, or the fact that he's _nowhere _nearby to console her from the grief just like before?

"….hc…Papaaa….."

She curled on the floor, weeping and suffering alone for the first time in her second life, the Spirits of the Dead who remained close to her lamenting her grief.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Papa had said that the Moon is actually the Eye of the Dragon when Vra'Ugthol first disintegrated. It had been believed that Her other eye, the Sun, is alive and sentient, watching over anything the light touches. Some believed that She only had one eye, and that the Moon is actually the pupil separated from the eyeball that was the Sun, and when a Solar Eclipse arrives, that's when the Mighty Dragon has awoken once again from her 4 yearlong slumber, setting Her gaze over the earth and the Order of the Serpent would rejoice.

Meili shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Her new culture is too complex for her liking. She'll just remember the main gist of it where the Moon is the Dragon's eye and that she's being watched whenever she's outside. It explained why many Priests before her always perform their arts in the evenings, her Papa said. It's so they could be witnessed by their deity. Her kind don't like the company of the Living, after all.

That she can halfheartedly agree. At this point of hour in the night, she's not interested in any company. An entire four hours spent in her room trying to hold down her body from exploding left her sour. The rest of the day till evening, she spent sleeping. If Papa had been there, holding her close to his chest and kissing her forehead, the pain would have disappeared quickly and she would have gone to see Betty and went on that tryst with Puck.

She missed Papa's cuddles. His mana is so _delicious._

She sighed, an unsatisfied desire creating a void in her stomach.

_I want cuddles again._

She's yet to find someone else with tastier energies until he comes back.

Blue Maidy was so bland and regular. The flavor she could find from anyone, even from the ones who never used magic in their lives.

For some reason, Red Maidy was _saucy_. She wasn't able to process it properly under her anger when she had ahold of her neck but she never expected Red to have that sort of flavor_. _For somebody presumed as weak and inferior, she tastes _extravagant._

Pucky was a cold platter, like an ice block. Tastes just like the mana in the atmosphere, tasteless. Like water. She expected more when Papa mentioned he's a powerful monster underneath the guise of a small animal, but apparently he's using the most basic energy to function. Which makes sense. What else do Spirits need besides that?

To her surprise, that silly little Emily _nearly _matched what Papa had. Less potent but highly processed. It was so good she ate more than a mouthful when they shared an embrace and gave her that kiss. It took much of her not to take any more than her share or even _let _go of her.

Maybe she should get friendlier with the half-elf, get more chances to her tasty energies. Likely then, she could get to sleep with her. Not that she would replace Papa with Emily. He's a lot tastier and she would choose him over everyone in existence.

But first, she should find out if Betty is tasty or not. She won't touch Rosy, he's too weird for her liking.

With one hand, she turned the knob and headed out to the backyard of the Mansion. A beautiful moonlight night kept the open fields well-illuminated in a haunting white light. Though, she'd like to have a very dark evening where the sky is a dark void and covered in clouds. She's very fascinated with her own night vision. It's like the concept of shadow or darkness doesn't exist anymore…which was weird because she could see shadows during the day.

Noting how the Mansion has its own personal forest just as what Papa told her, she picked the section where it is nearest to where he likely is. He's still in the cave, she could feel it. Brooding like always.

A knot started forming in her belly again at the thought of him being alone and sullen.

"Tch." She tried to force it down once again, focusing on her task instead of worrying about something that will only fix itself….hopefully…

She sighed deeply, shaking her head to loosen the braid and let it float behind her, trailing as if it was submerged in water as she walked. "….I hope he comes back sooooon…."

She stopped walking, her silver hair flowing forwards and shrouding her face. She smiled and turned around, the two skeletons following her following the same motion, staring at Emily who was following behind her. "Why are you foooollowing me, Emily?"

"Oh….um…." Flustered from being found out, she looked around herself, looking for an excuse, then eventually gave up. "…I was just curious as to where you'll trek to in this time of night."

_'Trek', she said._

"I'm just gonna plant a little treeee." She showed the half-elf what she has in her gloved hand, "I got a little seed right heeeere."

Emily recoiled backwards, jumping an inch in the air before she neared a fist to her gaping mouth. "Li-little Meili, that…that is a—"

"A seeeeed." Meili insisted with the same smile, holding the skull out to her. "Isn't it cuuuute?"

Emily was struck silent, unsure what to say. When a dozen seconds passed without any more dialogue, Meili turned around and headed to the selected forest. "If you wanna come with me, that's oookay. I guess I'll accept one person watching in my choooore."

"Chore?" Emily parroted questioningly, her footsteps pacing up behind her.

The rest of the trip was quiet, having only the evening insects and birds to fill the silence. Instead of taking the road, Meili went past the thicket and ventured through the thick darkness. Emily had tripped behind her, completely unable to see in the dark compared to her. Feeling merciful, she led the half-elf by the hand and made a little glow emanate from her form, illuminating a little green circle around the two of them, followed close behind by the skeletal duo.

Once she found an open spot on a tiny clearing illuminated by the moon, a patch of ground covered by dry leaves, likely more than a hundred meters away east from the yard, she decided that this is a spot as good enough as it is. With a gesture as she let go of Emily's hand, she ordered the skeletons to dig up a hole.

As the constructs did their work, their hands reshaped into shovelheads to make the digging quick, she turned to face Emily, making the latter flinch lightly when she saw the bright glow of her eyes amidst the green light she was emitting, and told her, "Emily, this is going to be scary so take a…um," She looked behind the half-elf before she continued, "….13 steps back."

"Oh…" Emily looked to where 13 steps back would take her, which was outside the illumination of the aura Meili was making and into the darkness under several trees. She turned to her again, "Um, why? What are you going to do?"

She put on a wide smile, brightening the glow of her eyes and wiggling her left hand's fingers beside her head, whispering ominously, "The ghosties are coooooming…." They call them 'ghosts' in Papa's home world past the Great Waterfall, but in this world, they call them, "Holloooows….! Hollows are coming to visiiiiiit….!"

"Eep!" Emily had been a brave girl since she started following her, not even afraid of the darkness, but apparently, simple fears still haunt her. Her pale features paling even further and suddenly nearing to Meili, holding her shoulders tightly and her head looking left to right rapidly, as if she's expecting to find a transparent humanoid to come from anywhere. "Where!? Where!? Can you—can you see them!?"

Meili cruelly giggled, the mere sound of it having the power to ice anyone's spine upon hearing it. Seeing the shudder on Emily's form, it is very effective. "It's okay, Emilyyyy." She pointed a pale finger past her, "Blue Maidy and Red Maidy were following us the whole tiiiime."

"Eh?" She turned to look behind her, but Meili doubts that the half-elf will see them like she can. "Where?"

"Just over theeere." She pinpointed Red and then Blue as they got close enough to be seen by Emily. The twins wore really stiff faces, having heard of the kind of guests they'll be dealing with in a few moments from now. "When they get here, go to them, okaaay? I need lots of space before I chitchat with the ghooooosties. They don't like noooosy people."

"O-okay!"

Once they were at the indicated distance of 13 steps, Emily quickly ran over to them and stood behind the pair, who stood stiffly but readily for anything violent that happens. Hollows were heavily associated with malice and wickedness, as opposed to what Papa usually deals with that are either compliant, friendly or just deceitful. Uncommonly, they are very malicious like the Hollows. The nervousness these three girls have of them are very justified.

Smiling wickedly, she shut off the illumination she was giving off, leaving only her glowing eyes to be seen in the limited light before turning around and stepping into the patch of ground lit up by the Dragon's Eye. It seems the skeletons were finished in the digging, having made a decent 3 feet deep spot on the ground, big enough to stick a pole in, or a tiny little skull.

Holding the skull out with extended arms, facing her, she looked deeply into its empty sockets, chiding it sweetly as if it was a baby, "You lived a bad baaaaaad life, Mister. All the potential you had, wasted on bad bad things like slaaaving and steeaaaaaling." The first human life she took in her second life, about to become the hallmark of her first successful task outside of Papa's guidance. He is going to be _so_ proud one he sees her handiwork, "Tonight, I'm gonna make you pretty and wonderful as a _treeeee_. Mwah."

And she pecked the teeth before dropping it into the hole, rolling to its side upon hitting the bottom. Stepping back and letting the skeletons fill back the dirt, she rolled her sleeves and pulled the glove off her right hand, letting its anomalous existence be seen. Pocketing it and pulling out her wand, she tut her teeth rapidly to herald the beginning.

Then….

A shake of the wand, then came a click.

A second shake followed by a second click, and the skeletons stepped away from the filled hole.

A third shake and click, she felt the ground tremble. Only those with the sharpest senses would have felt the sensation on their soles.

A satisfied exhale escaped Meili's lips. It was the perfect placement.

So she sang. A single D minor note and nothing else. Her wand began making a rhythm with its clicks. In the same process, she began infusing mana to the earth. It was visible under the light of the moon, green energy fuming out of her form and sinking to the earth, causing the tremor to grow stronger little by little.

Rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle went the wand in her brown hand, sending vibrations across her entire right arm, nearly losing the beat of its rhythm as its tempo began increasing, forcing her to grip it tightly lest she loses her hold.

Then suddenly, silence. The night insects went quiet. The nocturnal birds shushed. Breaths were held. Everything was still as if time froze to a stop.

And then out of nowhere, a disfigured mass of bone erupted out of the ground in front of Meili with a burst of dirt, shaped like a twisted femur mixed with an oversized ribcage wrapped haphazardly around it.

This time, the ecstasy couldn't be held down.

"Ehihihihihihi! **AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**" Cackling gleefully, spinning around and hopping in celebration like a girl on her birthday, feeling the sensation of her body being raked pleasantly, she began to dance. Like a grotesque and horrifying ritual, she swayed and flailed around the bony protrusion of the earth, as if there were strings around her limbs and the puppeteer violently pulled them, practically _screaming _the song's single note in its continuation. The skeletons became part of the one-woman festivities, clapping their hands in perfect unison to the rattles of the wand.

And the bone sapling grew, bigger and longer, feeding on the mana Meili was releasing in her thrashing and screaming, soon beginning to develop a trunk made entirely of femurs and forearms fused together. Then dozens of spinal columns grew from the top, curling and extending. Rattling. Large ribs and sharpened bone grew alongside them, curling inwards to the trunk like a jester's hat.

Give and take. Offer and receive. Her mana pool is not wide like Papa's. She also cannot drain mana out of the air while doing this or she'll break the rhythm otherwise. She cannot complete this with her own power either. That's why she had many unseen entities providing her the energy she needed, and she'll use that energy to feed the tree.

She had befriended a few Souls before she came to the Mansion, and they _adore _her. But they do not provide mana without a price. She must pay them with _attention_, conversation and entertainment.

Clicks to form the words.

Songs to send it across the Realms of the Living and the Dead.

And the dance, this was something she made on her own and added to the mix.

When under emotional outbursts, the Souls would manhandle her body and she would feel every bit of it, whether gently or violently. Instead of resisting, she _allowed_ them, letting her body be dragged around like an unwilling partner of a waltz. The more her body flails under their control, the more entertained they become, and the more mana they'll give her.

An _extremely _effective way of growing this cute little tree in little time.

The 'branches' slowly grew longer and bigger, _hands _began growing out of the spines like twigs and shrubs while the sharp protrusions grew even more limbs of barbed bone. They moved and swayed just like an organic tree against the breeze, but there was no wind, and the bones appeared to be hard and solid.

It danced to Meili's tune, the sounds of ivory grinding against ivory almost synchronized to her beat and the rattling sounds are nearly reminiscent of her melody.

Once the growth of the tree has reached a certain point, where the spines are literally coiled around each other or the spiky protrusions of the sharp ivory going through them, with the trunk completely barbed with ribs and preventing anyone from climbing them without injury, and the roots made entirely of femurs ending in hands and feet grasping the earth in a literal death grip, Meili and the Tree become one in song and dance.

Click-click, CLAP.

With just a simple pattern, silence ruled over once again. And just in time, Meili stood at the same place before she became a plaything for the Souls. She stood hunched over, breathing heavily, her hair especially ragged despite its constant bobbing, one hand resting on her knee while the other rolled its wrist, holding the wand that seemed to be cracked and missing a few of its finger parts.

She turned to look behind her, exhausted and wearing only a weary look, the sweat on her face making her floating white hair stick to it, trying her hardest to stand up straight despite how worn out her upper body is.

The three girls stood there in the same place, looking at her and the tree together in complete trepidation, as if expecting more of the insanity she displayed to continue at any moment. The twin maids even had their weapons drawn out, looking at the tree itself like it was a living creature.

She only shot them a sweet, winning smile, likely not mixing well with the bloody tears that ran from her eyes _or _the red lines on her face that looked like phantom scratches, especially the ones on her bare forearms.

"They're _heeeeeeeeeere_…..!"

And right on time, the three of them released shocked gasps and a quick step back in perfect unison, terrified gazes looking over multiple places in her general direction rapidly. Yes, they are now seeing distorted humanoid figures in their peripheral vision. If they tried to look at them directly, they will see no one but are still present on the corner of their sight.

It was such a delicious sight. Papa made no attempt to hide that he liked seeing other people, including herself, get freaked out, especially if he was responsible for it. Apparently, she shares the joy of it. Their equal tastes is enough to make her blush and grin.

"You all can go to bed noooow." It's about time that these girls get dismissed. The Souls currently present are _needy_, and she can't hope to think they could handle them properly like she can. "I'll stay here and be a cute and charming hostess for theeeem. It's okay, I won't geeeet bored."

That was all the prompt they needed to know that they can _leave_, when they should have minutes ago. Warily, they took careful steps back, eyeing everywhere in her general direction, expecting something horrible to happen. None did, and she gave them a closed-mouth smile, waving goodbye with her brown hand, dissonant to the atmosphere they are under in. Once they reached a distance that was far enough, they turned around and quickly headed back to the mansion.

If those three took the time to look closely, they might notice that the Souls are waving goodbye along with her. They are even wishing them a good night sleep too.

"Good nightmaaaares!" Papa always said that Dreams are the only places where you can rule everything without consequences, a prelude to what she'll have in the Afterlife. Nightmares are just exercises sent by the Dragon for them to conquer over and strengthen the mind from the influences of the Dead, hopefully they can do the same so they can handle these people just like her.

She looked at the wand in her hand and frowned, pouting. It's really battered from the overuse, cracked and shattered. It was rattling _too _rapidly than it could possibly handle. And the lower jaw of the animal skull looks like it was about to come off. "And he just made this for me this morning….." She muttered sadly.

She felt tingling sensations on her shoulders; pats of comfort and sympathy.

She shrugged her shoulders, "No touchyyy." She sat on her rear, legs curled close to herself, placed the broken wand beside her on the ground, and she put her glove back on before clapping the rhythm of greetings to all who are present.

As if in response, the bone tree began glowing an eerie blue. The source of the light was nowhere to be seen, an unnatural illumination shining on her and its general vicinity in a 10 feet radius, but the dark of the evening as the moon is hidden away behind the clouds is effectively held back despite its unnatural presence.

And amidst the light, she could see the transparent and misshapen forms of the Hollows in her direct line of sight standing close to the tree, looking at her patiently. Some are situated on the branches, seated primly with their feet dangling beneath them. Some are hung upside down like bats, their toes coiled around the branches and swaying side to side. It's easy to tell which among them are the most mature and which among them have died young.

She wore a smile, the pale blue light reflecting off her sharp teeth.

The people gathered ready to pay attention, the seminar can now begin.


	15. Emotion Suppression

_"We're playing caaatch?" Meili asked, holding the fist-sized ball of ivory in her brown hand._

**_"Something as simple as this can hone your senses in a variety of ways. In fact, it has been used by many wyrmms Underground as a form of training exercise." _**_Emurdol informed, green eyes glowing under the light of the moon as he looked at her fondly, **"And I'm adding a little rule to make it interesting."**_

_"Which iiiiis?"_

_He held up a large snake fang in his bony fingers, **"Catch the ball but avoid this."**_

_The Souls knew what he was about to do, and their apprehension passed onto Meili, sending her body into high alert, adrenaline coursing through her system and she twisted her torso sideways, the flying bone projectile flying to where her left chest was supposed to be._

_The moment her mind caught up to what he just did, she turned to him with a bright green glare, "You could have killed me!" She threw the ivory ball at him, aiming for the same place on his chest._

_He caught it in his hand without looking away from her, **"No, you will **_**not_. You are my beloved child, and I will never live with myself if I had you killed, and not because it will deviate from our Contract."_**

_She scowled at him even further, "Then why do we have this ruuuuule?"_

_He threw the ball back to her, which she caught. **"You and I are now together by blood. That links us both, in multiple ways."**_

_Meili cocked a silver eyebrow, throwing the ball to him._

**_"You and I can share the same thoughts. What I know, you'll know too. Whatever I have discovered, you will know it too in a moment of breakthrough. Wherever you are, I will know. It can go the other way as well." _**

_He passed the ball to her._

_She caught it with both hands, turning to him with a pronounced frown, troubled by the prospect of it. "Does that mean I won't be able to be myseeelf?"_

_He shook his head, **"I don't intend to mold you into who I am. The Link is an advantage for the both of us. If I was ever forced into silence that could hinder us when I have known crucial information, you would be able to know without the enemy realizing. If we were in combat and facing an impossible foe but you happened to find its weakness, you can send it to me through our Link without the need to talk."**_

_She threw the ball to him, "Do the people Underground do thiiiis too?"_

_He nodded, **"Indeed. Only those of the same blood can share a Link." **He threw the ball and created a snake fang again, letting it float above his palm. **"If you worry about your sense of self turning out to be like mine, then you must have better reign over your emotions."**_

_Rolling the ball in her hands, Meili eyed the fang carefully while she listened._

**_"_**_**I am not referring to Emotion Suppression. **_**_I refer to when you know better than losing control of yourself." _**_He covered his eyes with his palm, the fang spinning into a blur. **"And how you will know better is by knowing who you are. That is something I cannot teach you."**_

_Her brown hand quickly shot out to her right, forming a bony plate on her palm._

_The fang flew forward like a dart right afterwards, spinning rapidly in its flight, and it crumbled into dust upon impact of her palm._

_She was completely baffled._

_She happened to know where the trajectory is, and there was no prior warning to when it'll take off. It was even aimed right at her, but she _knew _that it was going to divert sideways, away from her. All she ever thought about was the fang, the intention behind the shot and the place he was _likely_ aiming at._

_She questioned if it made her consciousness match his own consequentially,_ sharing_ the same thoughts, just like the Link he was talking about._

_Looking at the plate of bone on her palm returning to the depths of witchbeast flesh, she turned to her Father and saw that his eyes are still closed._

_She made a thought pass through her head: _Point to the ground. _And she threw the ball beside him._

_His hand shot out to grab it from his left and his bony hand pointed to the ground, showing that this Link of theirs is true._

_As he opened his eyes, the words that came out of him next were full of authority and command._

**_"Meili, do _****not _be anyone's toy. You must _not_ be like me. You must _not_ be the shadow the Souls think you are. You are _not_ Meili Portroute anymore. You are your own person. Your name is Meili Sinnuldel, and you _must_ know who that is if you don't want to be held down forever."_**

_The game finally began. He hampered her night vision with a curse as he hid in the shadows of the trees around them, throwing the ball to her and shooting snake fangs to nonlethal parts of her body from any direction that she was unaware of. From bruises to cuts, she sustained many injuries in the game when her mind failed to catch up to his line of thinking. It was a brutal and merciless game._

_Slowly but surely, her desperation empowering her focus, she began to feel her Link to him getting vivid._

_The discovered mindset needed being 'Feel, not Think', she began to easily pinpoint his every trajectory, dodging his fangs with minimal movement while seamlessly catching the ball he threw without the loss of a beat. It was like a choreographed dance; she knew the part she must do and trusted him to do his in the same pace._

_When she dodged 20 fangs in a row and caught her 32nd ball, she threw it at ballistic speeds towards where she thought he'd be in the shade of the darkness and shot a snake fang of her own there as well._

_Emurdol emerged from the tree line a dozen seconds later, clapping his hands in applause, sporting a bleeding forehead and a laceration on the side of his neck that's bleeding a liter even though he could have stopped it with his Blood Magic, but his face showed pride, pleased with her performance and congratulating her with his adoring gaze._

_Meili stood there shaking, inflicted with more than two dozen cuts and lacerations on her person as well as more than a few bruises, showing through the holes of her clothing and parts of her skin not covered by it, especially her face. The ball once landed on her temple and she nearly fell out of dizziness. Her cheek had a deep cut too, running across the entire cheek. It was all thanks to herself subconsciously activating her own Blood Magic that prevented them all from leaking even the slightest centiliter of blood._

_She cried tears of blood as she saw the look on his face, whether out of happiness or out of the pain he made her suffer through because of his 'rules', she couldn't tell which but she ran over to him all the same, throwing her arms around him and stabbing his back with the claws of her brown hand. Emurdol was nonplussed to her display of both violence and affection as he lifted her up from the ground, tightening his embrace around her. _

_He whispered his praises in her head as he held her tenderly and lovingly, mixing his apologies with them as he kissed her temple and closed her wounds using Reconstruction, their shared blood making it easy to do. He still didn't stop himself from bleeding nor did he react to the claws digging into his back. He took them without resistance, marks of her achievement. And eventually, the exhaustion overpowered Meili and she fell asleep from her tears. For the rest of the night, Father and Daughter reveled in the moment of Peace they garnered through mutual suffering._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The seminar didn't quite go as planned; it went _horribly_. She bit more than she could chew. She invited too many Souls, and unlike Papa, she cannot handle too many voices answering every question she brought up at once. Due to that, she learned _nothing_.

It was a miracle that she managed to _fall_ _asleep _while they were present. Some Souls are quite the relentless bunch, especially when they are needy for attention and they happen to know that you can see and hear them. They'd talk your ear off and there's nothing you can do about the whispers and violent chaos going through your head except endure it. Unless you passed out.

And apparently, Meili got lucky to suffer nightmares. All that showing off with her new gifts in front of the girls and _this _is all she had to show in the aftermath….

_Papa would really be disappointed._

Though the headache she woke up with had subsided, the throbbing sensations in her body lingered a lot longer than she thought it would, particularly the places where the Souls grabbed her. It was two hours after sunset when she did her chore, and it's amazing that these sensations would last towards daytime till now. Her face even stings badly, as if she got slapped.

Yawning, scratching the side of her face that lied on the leaf-covered earth while stretching her legs, she leant against the bone tree she created last night, the sharp barbs protruding from the trunk curving upwards to avoid piercing her back and Meili let out a big sigh.

She started tearing up the sooner she tried opening her eyes any wider than a slit, the shine of the sunlight on the ground next to her causing a lot of discomfort so she covered her face with her forearm, "….I hate good mornings…."

_There. I said it._

She and Papa spend their working days either in the cave lacking any source of light or around the evenings. She was starting to enjoy never having to rely on torches or lamps anymore too, now using both arms anytime she wishes thanks to her acquired night vision. Her views altered along with it; she used to like it whenever a sunny morning is out.

_How am I gonna play with Petra and the others like this?_

….wait, was that clicking sound she kept hearing beside her since waking up normal?

And there was a large figure sitting inches next to her.

"**HA!**" Before her mind could catch up to what she's supposed to do, contributing to days of training, her right hand lashed to the side in the speed of sound, long talons extending out of her fingertips and aiming towards into the person's head.

And they sunk clean through, almost without resistance, similar to water that she could not believe that this person even _had _a skull. Even with a hand carrying strength above that of regular humans, it would easier to crack a mass of bones with a fist than piercing through it with needles seamlessly.

As her mind caught up to her actions, she now processed the garb this person was wearing. A full body robe of dark red that left little for skin to be seen, even a hood is worn over the head. This person had her broken wand in their leather-gloved grasp, replacing its lost finger bones with expert manipulation, _while her claws are still embedded to his head_.

Strangely unperturbed by the sight, she leaned forward to see the person's face.

There was no face, instead there was a mask made out of white ivory, in the style of a cute kitty mask with its eyes closed and a noticeable grin in its feline lips, complete with lines as whiskers on its cheeks and protruding ears at the top rim. Someone in this apparel would exhume a mysterious, even suspicious aura, but the mask _disarmed _every malign impression possible and instead gave off an approachable demeanor.

A relation of such a character quickly came to her mind.

"Uncllllle!" She retracted the talons out of his head and back to her fingers before latching onto his arm for a hug, jolting his working hands.

"Good day, Meili." Uncle Viandegroc greeted, his speaking voice coming from his _chest_, not facing away from his work. "I came to check on your progress."

Pouting, she looked up to his masked face, "You're not here just to visiiiit?"

"_Noooo. You_ should be visiting _me_." He pointed out, "You know that I'll be at the village, representing your Father for his heroic deeds."

"And why would you think I wanna go theeere?"

"Because I'm very aware that you want to play with the children." He held up her wand, looking at the bottom angle for symmetry before lowering it down and adjusting the fingers. "And you can do so once you do your chores."

"And I diiiiid." She stood up, holding out an arm towards the necromantic image of life in the form of a tree. "Seeee? Preeeetty, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Uncle stood up as well, turning to look at her work with an indicative look of approval. "This is very well-done." The comment made her smile. He looked at the wand in his hands, then turned to her, "I assume you've done this with your _original _method, given the state of the wand your Father _just _gave you yesterday and the scratches on your face." Guiltily, she looked down, "How long did it took you this time?"

She looked up towards her brow, looking deeply into the eyes behind the frame of ivory, smirking slightly, hoping to impress, "…Five minutes?"

"Fascinating." The feedback was _very _deadpan, as if he expected her to accomplish it under 10 seconds like Papa could, despite having failed multiple times to do so days prior, to better indicate that there is no chance of that happening since she's still a wyrmm. She improved immensely from her last record just hours ago. Shouldn't that be considered an achievement in of itself?

_Does he even care?_

He held out the wand back to her.

She frowned darkly at him before swiping it off his hand, deliberately letting the barbs on her fingers leave deep cuts on his leathery palm before she looked over the wand's condition. Even with its brand new state and modified structure to prevent breaking under stress, she's still not happy. Glaring, olive green eyes glowing maliciously, she asked snappily, "Did you make this thing strong?"

"Hopefully." Despite the deep cuts on his palm that bled black, he showed no sign of feeling any of it as he crossed his arms, the wide sleeves making him look large in contrast to what he actually looks like underneath, "And keep your emotions tame. The last thing you want after waking up is suffering."

One thing after another, whenever he's around, he's even critical to how she's supposed to feel, and he's _right _to do so. This was part of her training. He was meant to rile her up in any opportunity but subtly and gently, to better improve her Emotion Suppression.

Even so, this is absolutely infuriating in so many ways. It does not have to be training every time they are together.

Growling impudently, disregarding his instructions blatantly, letting her body feel the brunt of the backlash without any expressed discomfort, she said back, "_The last thing_ _I_ _want_ is you expecting me to be good at everything every time you see me! I'm still growing! Not only that, _you _never became a full Priest yourself!"

"I simply have high hopes for you, Niece, expecting you to do better than I have." The way he maintained his flat tone of voice never helped her mood, as if he never cared about her opinion. "I'm just very vocal about it compared to your Father, who expects the very same."

"How is he?" She lost the mood for small talk completely after the unintentional reference of Papa's inability to _speak_, now attempting Emotion Suppression as the pain is becoming too much to bear, feeling her mood turning dull, "How is Papa?"

He turned to face the general direction of where her Link to him told her, "Since he doesn't have to teach you anything for now, he finally had the time to speak with Mama."

Papa…_spoke_ with his Mother?

Taming the wide-eyed look on her face, she asked, "Aaaand?"

"Like always, Niece, he has forgiven her." He told with a nonplussed tone, as if this had been a recurring occurrence. Which it was, except it was never _this_ quick. Usually, it'd take him a _month _or more before the ice in his heart cools. "He is still sour and bitter, as he's not allowing her to integrate him to her body but he's accepting her apologies. The kindness of one stranger healed his heart."

A rare smile of warmth crossed Meili's lips. Their final assignment together left them with a very pleasant feeling because of the Traveler's bottomless well of kindness he shown to them. Two complete strangers, standing in the middle of nowhere, with the scent of blood permeating off their forms, including the fact that their clothes were quite tattered, and the man had the heart to allow them into his dragon carriage and transport them back to the Mathers Domain without pay.

He even gave away the clothes he had in his luggage to them, all because he thinks their damaged apparels don't suit them anymore.

She rubbed her thumb across the fabric of the black long-sleeved shirt she had from him. _I hope he lived happily_. He deserved to be, especially when he made a great contribution to Papa's recovering mood.

She turned to Uncle, no longer feeling any animosity thanks to that memory, "Is Papa doing okaaay?"

"He is, surprisingly." He turned his kitty mask to her, "And he misses you."

She looked down, blushing and grinning, twiddling her thumbs. She looked up again, "Then why can't he just come back already?"

His gaze went downcast, "You know why, Meili."

Then her mood fell quickly, her lips pursing at the thought of being practically next to the reason why. She crossed her arms and sighed sharply through her nose, keeping her wand in her barbed grasp. The more she stays, the more often she's away from him. What was Papa thinking when he sent her here?

"You must understand. Your Father is a good man, as he is doing this for _her _safety, but she is still the one who made him suffer in the first place." He told, as if he had read what crossed her mind, like it was written on her face. Within all reason due to what he is, he _can _read it from her face. "He needs more time to grow the heart to forgive." He took a few steps forward at the location of the mansion, making no sound in his footsteps and instead looking like he was gliding across the ground with his feet unseen because of his robes. "You can, however, speed it up by finding out why the Little Bitch attacked him and report it to me as soon as possible so I can tell him. As far as I have heard, she feels genuinely guilty of her actions."

"I notiiiiced. I already had Red Maidy pass the message, to tell me whyyyy."

"And that means _no violence_, even if her response angers you. Even if I wasn't there during your first meetings, I can easily tell that you did not limit yourself to just words."

Her teeth morphed into incisors, biting her lip without puncturing it. She's steadily beginning to tolerate his consistently correct guesses. Her Emotion Suppression is improving. "I won't do anymoooore." She promised, with every intent she had of following that through unless she is attacked. Then again, attacking her means getting hurt themselves so she had nothing to worry about from the people in the mansion. "If I make it any worse, it'll look baaaaad….."

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

She held her jaw, suddenly feeling the saliva glands inside aching and secreting fluids, "Nooo."

"Then get to it." He then glided towards the direction of the village, taking the direct path through the forest instead of the gate of the mansion. "Once you're finished, see me in Earlham. Let's device a little game for the little ones there."

Grinning, she exclaimed as she watched him go, "Okaaay!"

Uncle Viandegroc, creation of Papa, a flesh golem made of nothing but witchbeast hide and muscle. When they first met, he was just a mockery of humanity, given only the basic necessities as a slave; Arms, legs and a mouth. No basic organs except a lung and voice-box for speaking. Everything else is just a gigantic mass of muscle compressed in a comparatively small body with the help of witchbeast anatomy.

Two weeks later, working with or under her, his body became a base for Meili's flesh magic to develop on. Her progress on her skills steadily made him passable as a humanoid, given that he hides his exteriors with the cloak he had. He's even capable of bone magic thanks to a core she personally made. His hands may look like they wore brown leather gloves but that is actually genuine flesh. Remove his kitty mask and there is nothing but a faceless visage. Remove the robes and there will be a living mannequin with a bone dagger merged to the chest.

He would be terrifying to look at just for his lack of bodily detail, and it will only get worse should he decide to defend himself without the use of magic. He is still a Flesh Golem, and Flesh Golems have _more _than one mouthful of teeth.

A product of genius by her own hand. Papa was so proud, rewarded her with lots of cuddles, kisses and his _delicious_ mana. She's only jealous of the fact that Uncle brought up the idea of the kitty mask for the sake of the village's ease and trust before she could.

Someday, she'll make him fully human that he'll forget that he's supposed to be _dead_.

Slotting her wand to her belt, she walked up to the tree and gave the barbed trunk a light swipe of her index claw before putting on her glove. A first tally mark of the times she'll come here for information, a healthy dose of mana, or a simple practice.

Holding up her arm, she walked back to the direction of the mansion, keeping the rays of the sun from hitting her face. A couple minutes later where she is at the tree line, she was surprised to find Red and Blue waiting for her. "Good mooorning." She greeted them, slightly squinting as she looked at their shadowed forms due to the sun reflecting a lot of light from the grass behind them.

"Good morning, Honored Guest." Only Blue spoke, carrying the politest of tones. "Rem and Dear Sister came to tell you that breakfast is ready."

"Yaaaaay…" She let out a lackluster reply, losing the delight of _proper _food due to the brightness of the day. "….I'll be there in a minuuuute."

"If the Honored Guest would be so kind, who was that man in a mask with you earlier?" Neutrally, Red asked.

Papa told her that Red had the ability to see through an animal's eyes, a perfect tool for surveillance and security. That must be why she happened to find out about Uncle. "Ah, you noooticed? That was Uncle Viandegroooc. He came to look at my treeee. He said it was gooood."

"And that's all he came here for after trespassing?"

"Yeeep! And to tell me that I should eat breeeaakfast." She walked on forward past between them, keeping her eyes shielded with both arms. The grass is like a mirror facing the sun, and she cannot believe her degraded ability to withstand the brightness of a _simple morning_.

_How am I gonna play now?_

Once she was finally past the backdoor, with the twins following behind her, she wiped her eyes from the fresh tears of red that leaked out and followed after them as they led her to the dining table.

Until…

"Honored Guest…." The twins stopped walking, with only Blue turning around to face her while Red kept her gaze forward, the professional visage of a maid fading away to show uncertainty. "…you…"

"Meiliiii. Call me Meiliiii."

Blue nodded lightly, "Miss Meili…you wanted an explanation of my actions to Ser Emurdol, yes?"

Her soft tone made Meili's back straighten and clench her fist. Knowing the seriousness of this question, she only nodded, patiently awaiting a response. The reason why Papa suffered, she'll finally hear it.

Biting her lip, looking down for a moment, Blue continued, "Can it wait until the evening? Rem still has chores to do…."

Closing her eyes, feeling a bit of pressure coming down on her consciousness for a few seconds before Meili opened them again and nodded. "Okay. In my room. _Alone._" She pointedly looked at Red's back, "Red Maidy will not be involved. Don't worry, I won't do anything violent. I'm just gonna listen. I promise."

Blue turned to look at Red as well, awaiting her choice in the matter of leaving her sister in a room with a person that initially despised her. To Meili's surprise, she turned to her and gave a nod, "Very well. You can have Rem for the evening, but Ram will be standing outside the door."

_Fair._ "Okaaay." Then she suddenly took both their hands, standing in-between them and leading the two forward with a dissonantly chipper smile on her lips. "Come oooon! Let's go eeeaaat!"

The entire trip to the dining hall was immensely discomforting and awkward all the way, maybe for the maids but not her. She practically fed on the atmosphere.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Breakfast went by swimmingly, to the surprise of even herself. She expected a bit of antagonism upon seeing Rosy again but no, he treated her as if she had been an inhabitant here for a long time. Although listening to him made her skin crawl, she appreciated a civil conversation more than anything. She was tired of the grief she caused. Emily and Pucky was there too. The food was _very _delicious too, though the amiable chitchats made everybody took forever in the dining table sitting and chatting. Topics ranged from what she's doing in the forest with the bone tree to what she's going to do in the future, lovingly referencing Papa whenever she can. Then it went to nonsensical things, running her mouth about what she, Papa and Uncle have been doing in the forests. However, she kept her mouth from running too far. Though she may never lie again, some things are better kept secret for the safety of herself and Papa.

It would be funny to see the look on everybody's face once she blatantly says that Papa is richer than the master of the Mathers domain. While he didn't have the blatant number of coins, he had incredibly rare materials and minerals stashed in the void that would buy a whole village or even a small hill. Priests of the Serpent barely had any use for money, though they hardly refuse it if offered or if it came from the pockets of their victims, and in some time during their assignments they become richer than most nobles just for surviving from the wilderness instead of buying from the market.

Instead, she played it safe and never said a word about his wealth. She and Papa are effectively poor but perfectly self-sufficient. Besides, after what Papa had done to her body, it can last a month after a full meal.

Afterwards, when the table is cleaned and everyone went on to do their usual routines: Rosy to his desk, Emily and Puck to their studies, and the twins to their chores, she went out the gate and headed to the village, hiding her wand and dagger inside the bag strapped to the back of her belt. Though she had to borrow a silly wide-brimmed black hat beforehand just to protect herself from the sun.

Reaching Earlham, the village was as normal as ever, and she somehow found Uncle Viandegroc standing in the center surrounded by more than a dozen villagers and children, listening intently to some kind of lecture about a skeleton he had standing beside him. Instead of being frightened by it, the children's eyes are practically shining and the adults were highly attentive of his methods of emergency treatment to a broken bone.

Compared to Volcanica, education is not available to just anyone in Lugnica. Nobles and those with money only had the chance for a child to even be capable of reading. She researched ahead before her first death that while the people in Earlham village aren't illiterate and are capable of simple arithmetic, that's practically it. There's nothing else beyond that unless they had the money. Out of Uncle's own volition, aside from preaching about Papa's deeds whenever he's not being a dummy for her Flesh Magic, he teaches the children about the human anatomy and how to take care of it. Somehow, the adults decided to get involved in the classes as well.

Out of personal pride, she felt mighty for knowing the lessons ahead of them. She had been learning under Papa's lessons, after all. Too bad they're not going to have the _fun _part of the lecture, which is handling literal bodies barehanded and looking closely on their structure with a little magnifying apparatus.

Then out of nowhere, she was hollered over by Uncle to be on the stage with him, having her as an assistant in the lectures. She thought she could handle much now, but apparently being in the center of so much attention is actually embarrassing, especially when it's not part of an assignment. Firstly, she was introduced to the people as one of the children that got cursed before and is said to be their savior's daughter. With regret in his voice, Uncle had to say that Papa suffered damages and will take a while before he comes back from recovery. All without a hint of a lie with a much deeper context in hindsight not given away.

Sympathy and condolences were sent Meili's way when he finished, and it made her uncomfortable. She still thanked them though, for courtesy's sakes.

Without further ado, she handled practical demonstrations like breaking parts of the skeleton dummy's parts and applying splints to it while Uncle explains the structure and what are the advantages of it besides not needing the use of magic.

And then came the game Uncle talked about, preceded by having 10 extra skeletons arrive from the tree line and lie down on the ground before the crowd. With all the lessons they learned for the last few days, there shall be two children and two adults together as a group in a total of 10 groups, and they apply emergency treatment to whatever part is broken.

The fun part, Meili is the one who'll pick the broken parts. She dared to be cruel, especially when she picked the places where it is far more complex to apply treatment on to certain groups, especially the skull.

Audience and competitors laughed and enjoyed the game as if their lives depended on it, and what was more amusing was that the children know _more than the adults_. Meili thought she will end up playing a regular kids game once she gets here, but this is way better. She laughed a lot, clapped her hands a lot, and shouted a lot. Smiled naturally too. She was beginning to enjoy the meaning of _Peace_ without having to mind her contract anymore. She's free from the life of an Assassin, and she is enjoying all the freedom she never had as a wyrmm.

The grand prize was an autonomous servant made out of bone, lacking the features of a typical skeleton and instead resembling a lay figure, free to be painted on for aesthetics or clothes if they want to. Apparently, Meina's and Mild's family won each for being in the same group.

After declaring that this event will happen again in another week or so, Uncle began another lecture where he emphasized that while the autonomous servant can help around the house and other forms of menial or physical labor, it _absolutely cannot _replace the person. Having one is not an excuse to be lazy. Humans should pull their own weight around like they are obligated to.

Meili nodded in full agreement to that. In fact, Papa told her to spare her strength for decisive blows while the skeletons perform the grunt work of the battle. Fight with her claws and knives only when she has to. Even with a stronger body than before, she's still a small girl with an even smaller pool of mana, unfit for prolonged physical combat.

After the crowd dispersed, the adults giving each other handshakes and congratulations for their participation while the children gathered around Meili, asking questions about what happened to her after the incident and how it is like to be Papa's daughter, Uncle formed the contract of the servants to the two winning families.

She merely dismissed them, saying that she doesn't want to talk about it, with Petra being the bigger girl of the group and telling them to knock it off. Meili can't handle any questions relating to the incident without mentioning that she was responsible for it. After having their apology, they then proceeded to play the normal games she's been waiting for. Multiple variations of tag or hide-and-seek, she ended up being a supreme winner due to her superior anatomy giving her an edge over them.

She had been compelled to perform her necromantic wonders to them just for fun but she vehemently denied them every time. Children having an interest in Necromancy is the _last _thing Papa, Uncle and as well as herself wants. No one simply becomes a Necromagus, they are picked from the crowd, the same way Meili had. Humans with too much pride and anger in their hearts could easily die on the first exercise. Sociopaths and twisted minds have a better chance than them.

And almost everyone Underground was practically born a sociopath, Papa once said.

Several hours later, Uncle called her over and told her to go back to the Mansion. Playtime is over for her it seems, and she almost didn't want to go, considering she's not even tired yet despite all the running while the others were sweating and sitting on the ground panting. There's still a couple more hours before sunset. The Dead can work her body over to the limit but the Living can't.

Still, she complied without question. She can't have too much time for herself while her Father isn't even nearby. She wants him close to her again. Waving goodbye to Petra and the rest, she joined Uncle as they walked back to the village. Before she went to take the road back to the Mansion, she was given a large, black leather book, inscribed with a language she didn't recognize. A Spell Book, he said, originally belonged to her Grandmother but later improved by her Father. All of his knowledge and magic packed inside one book. And now it belongs to her.

She hugged it close to her chest tenderly and lovingly, swearing to treasure it forever.

As the language written inside is straight from the mother tongue of the people Underground, something she doesn't know yet, she would not be able to read it conventionally, even with drawn pictures in the pages. Instead, she will employ a rather friendly Soul that he brought with him, personally instructed by her Father to help her learn it. A translator of some kind, to show her images and thoughts of the main idea of whatever topic she is focusing on, radically saving her the trouble of trying to understand complex vocabulary.

Thanking Uncle and telling him to tell Papa she said 'I love you', she gave a light peck on his kitty mask and skipped happily to the Mansion, the Friendly Soul following her alongside the ones she already had. Since she was in a happy mood, having a great time in the village and coming back with a gift from her Father, she literally jumped over the gate in a single bound and ran a full sprint across the stone paths before jumping into the open window of Papa's room once she was close enough.

Mobility is also a must for her. She can't stay in one spot for too long, otherwise she'll be cornered. Swiftness cannot be excluded as well. Her legs had to be operated on as well before she could perform a swift dash like Papa could, and she's still trying. It had been a fatal mistake for most spell casters to neglect their physical fitness, easily dominated once forced into the melee. Priestesses of the Serpent do not fall under the same risks, herself included.

And female Necromagi are far more vicious than the males. Just look at what Grandma has done to her despite being dead.

And she realized she still has her hat on. She put it on to the nearest skeleton that had been awaiting orders with its siblings. "Hihi. Oh." Her eyes went wide over a box resting on her bed with a note resting atop, "How'd this get heeeere?" She went over to pick up the note and read it. It's in I-script as well. Whoever wrote this still thinks she's a child. "Grrr."

_\Fresh clothes from the village seamstress._  
_Should fit you._  
_—Uncle/_

Grumbling, puffing her cheeks, she crumpled the paper and threw it over her shoulder before opening it. Taking the first one on the pile, she unfolded it and it happened to be a simple black dress with a waistband that reached down to her knees. The next one, a nice black capelet with a hood. To go with the dress, most likely. The third, black leggings and cloth shoes. The rest are simple undergarments that are _not _colored black. He could have at least given her something that _has_ color, like red. White is _not _a color.

"I guess I'll weeeaar this to sleep." She remarked, holding up the dress. Placing it on her forearm, she grabbed ahold of her collar and brought it to her nose, smelling the grass and the earth, accumulated from her outdoor sleep next to the bone tree. "Need a baaaath."

Throwing the dress and the undergarments to a nearby skeleton's reach, throwing the book to the gentleman skeleton, she gestured for the third to grab the towel before they followed her out the door.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

After spending more than an hour in the bath, soaking in warm waters and amazing shampoo, she came out fresh with dazzling hair, even if a little wet. And the dress feels great on her skin, cottony and comfortable, fits pretty nicely on her little frame as she moved. She kept the belt bag, however. The dress had no pockets, and the waist band needs a partner.

The skeletons now taking her other clothes to the laundry and returning to her room afterwards, she's now heading to the room of the mansion resident she hasn't met yet. And that might take a while.

….if she was still Meili Portroute, of course.

But she's not anymore. She's Meili Sinnuldel, and she can easily figure out where the Forbidden Archives is located. Laying her brown hand on every door she passes by, feeling for a certain sensation to course through it once she finds the right one. Her right hand is still without touch but that doesn't mean it can't feel what's not in the Physical Realm. Silly as it sounds but she discovered that Spirits feel like rocks.

Including the Friendly Soul she had close by, ready to help with reading the book.

But first, she needs a real reading environment.

"Mm." She turned to the door she's touching, and she felt a bit of rubber on it. This is the one. The last few doors left her numb, and this one's found at the end of the hall. Hugging the book close with her other arm, she formed a fist with her right hand and knocked.

And she waited.

….

...…...

…...…...…...

One minute passed and there was no response.

"Mm?" She felt the door again: the rubber sensation is still there. Is Betty somewhere else and not inside?

Just to be sure.

She knocked the door harder, literally _shaking _it from the force of the blow and sending thunderous booms all over the hallway—

It suddenly opened.

"Could you _not _break the door down, I wonder!? Betty heard you knocking the first time, it wasn't certain whether it happened or not!"

Meili froze, her brown hand reared back for another _polite _knock as she took in what's inside the room.

The smell of paper was quite overwhelming on her developed senses, and now she can see the entirety of the _very _large library inside that defined the dimensional warping involved in keeping the location scattered from time to time like Papa said. In direct view from the door and in the center of it all, there was a little girl seated on a high chair with an absurdly large book in her hands that she could not possibly carry with her small arms.

Her dress looks very fancy but look at her golden _hair _with pink highlights. It's curled into _magnificent _drills and they would nearly reach the floor if she were standing.

Lowering her hand and putting on her best smile as she entered in, she greeted, "Hellooo! My name's Meiliii. You've seen me before, noooo?"

"If Betty's memories could recall, you might be one of the brats that were cursed by the witchbeasts two weeks ago, I suppose."

"That's riiight!" Slotting her brown hand to her glove, she ran her fingers through her white hair. "I didn't have pearly whiiiites before though. Papa bit me good when he gave me his blooood."

"Bit you?" Betty frowned, then a twinge of recognition flashed from her eyes, narrowing them as she looked at her a second time. "…ah, that must have been you who had that rather human-like bite wound on the left arm. Though…your aura changed, in fact. You're not as _little _as before, I suppose."

She smiled brightly, losing her usual diction, "Papa got me killed. He thought I was a suspect of the incident, and he was right. I was the one who brought Petra and the others to the forest and got them bit with the cursey puppy."

A pulse of pain echoed across her body when she remembered the few days after, when she suffered three days inside a cave under horrible conditions from Grandma. Oh, how the memory burned itself to her head despite this being her second life and having abandoned everything in the first. It took much of herself to enact Emotion Suppression and hold down the rage.

The flat expression on Betty's face froze, eyes containing butterflies looking at her calculatingly as she continued smiling under the influence of Emotion Suppression while the silence hung on for more than a minute.

The door behind her closed silently, and Betty finally broke the silence, "And this 'Papa' of yours…is that Bone Magician with four other arms, I wonder?"

"Actually, the four other arms is Grandma's so they aren't really his but yeees. Papa Emurdol is my Papaaaa."

Betty continued to stare, "He _adopted _you." It wasn't a question.

"Yeees!" She and Papa made each other suffer, with varying degrees of torment, and it continues to this day despite being in love with the other. Even Meili can tell how strange that sounds from another perspective. "And since he's going to stay here from now on, that means you and I are gonna be friieeends!"

"Betty does not want to be friends with you or anybody, in fact." Betty dismissively replied.

Despite the failed attempt, she's still smiling and not giving up, "Aw, come oooon. Don't be so cooold, Betty."

"And who gave you the permission to call Betty Betty, I wonder?"

"No one reaalllyyy. Beatrice sounds loooong. So I'm gonna stick to Betty from now oooon, _Betty_! Can I stay here and read my book, _Bettyyyy_?"

"Don't just ask me that after you just sat down and opened your book when Betty hasn't even said anything, in fact!"

"Thank you, _Bettyyy_! You're the best, _Bettyyyy_!"

"Betty haven't even given you permission yet, I suppose!" Betty puffed up her cheeks cutely, porcelain white face turning a beet red and she fumed, practically steaming from the ears. And just when Meili thought she was about to blow up, Betty suddenly exclaimed, "Agh! Fine!" She raised her absurdly large book up high to cover her face, hiding her cute irritated face, "You can knock but you dismiss everything Betty says, in fact. Such poor manners, I suppose!"

Now that's not true. Meili has _wonderful_ manners. You should see her around Court Meetings, everyone in the room _loves _her. Oh well, she'll prove herself to Betty soon. For now, she's going to read books with her and have a little study.

Lying on her front with the book opened to the first page in front of her, her legs raised up and swinging back and forth, the Friendly Soul hovered over her shoulder and started the lesson.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The reading session went on as expected when in a library environment, quietly and fruitfully. Beatrice skimmed from book to book, creating a neat pile on the floors around her elevated seat with a cup of tea atop the table next to her. She took momentary glances to her 'guest', whose eyes were strangely glazed over in their slight olive green glow as she seemed to be _staring _at the pages instead of reading through each line, her lounging form literally frozen in place since her legs laid flat on the ground instead of swinging back and forth. Not a single blink, a twitch of movement in the eyes or even a sign of breathing. If it weren't for the white girl in the black dress turning the pages at unknown intervals, the Spirit would have thought that time had frozen itself.

Meili took her first steps in reading a book through a Friendly Ghost as a medium, and it was more than she expected. She's familiar about communicating with them but reading with one was very different. Broad paragraphs were shortened into simple images. Short sentences were expanded with vivid impressions going through her head. She was absorbing knowledge in a way that was _extremely_ efficient than just merely reading through text.

What her Father and Grandmother had learned and gathered from their lives in Pandemonium, she had unrestrained access to them. Apart from metaphysical facts of the world, the Afterlife, the natural cycle of things, the overlook of certain anatomies, and the makeup of mana, their wisdom made humanity look like complete idiots…..but at the same time, it made them look special.

Meili never felt so proud to be a human just by reading their passages.

Knowledge and Wisdom. Use both right and the importance of material things become insignificant by a large margin.

Throughout her read, she hasn't found a single instruction for any of the spells it stated.

And that is to be expected. She's about to become part of the Order of the Serpent and she have to figure it out on her own. In fact, she has a proud streak of discoveries in a matter of days thanks to her Father's uncompromising lectures and instructions. Like making a chair without blueprints, the layout is entirely up to her according to what she's learned about design practicality or the best material for it.

And she never thought that a dead body could still retain the shock of its own death, even without a head. Overload that shock with the learned knowledge that Souls could intensify emotions and it will explode, creating a powerful and messy but _useful _explosive in emergency situations. Her best discovery yet during her first act of violence against another human a couple days ago.

Hours passed in her study, with Beatrice's tower of finished books reaching an impressive height that they are about to tower over her in her elevated seat, and dusk finally arrived outside the door of the Archives.

The silence that have survived for so long has now shattered, by no other than a groan from Meili before her face fell on the page, a loud smack echoing in the silent Archives. "Ooooowwiiieee….."

"Your moaning is ruining the peace and quiet, in fact." Beatrice's snappy comment was quick to come out instead of being surprised by the sudden arrival of noise. "Shut it, I suppose."

"My heeaaad…." She rolled to her back, resting her head on the other page and holding it with her hands, gritting her teeth over the pounding sensation. "…it huuuurtsss….! Oooowww…..! Aaaagh….!"

Frowning, discomfort going through her nerves, Beatrice slammed the book she's reading close, a sharp clap resounding in the Archives, and addressed the matter. "What is going on with you, I wonder? Why is your head aching?"

"I don't knoooow….!" Meili tried to sit up, her left hand supporting herself upwards as she tried to get on her knees while her other kneaded her temple with a thumb. It did no good to the headache, "I…I think the book's stuff got too crammed in my heeaaaad…..! Papa gets like this when he listens to too many dead peeeoople…..! Now I know why Uncle told me not to do this for tooooo long….!"

"Then that leaves all the blame on you for failing to heed warnings, I suppose." The Spirit left her seat, tucking her book under her arm and reached a petite hand towards Meili's head, the healing energy of water magic about to—

"No!" Almost shrieking like a hissing cat, the white child in black practically slammed her back against the shelf behind her as she tried to get away from Beatrice's hand, bleeding eyes of glowing olive green glaring at it with murder despite the excruciating agony plain on her beautiful features as she continued holding her head with her gloved hand. "Don't…don't heal me, Betty…! I'll end up forgetting everything I studied if you do!"

Beatrice stared, slowly drawing her hand back and hugging the book under her other arm to her chest. "Fine, in fact." She returned to her chair and opened the book to the bookmarked page, continuing where she left off, momentarily taking glances to the girl and trying to ignore the croaking and gurgling.

Five minutes of suffering haven't lessened the pain yet, and Meili fell on her side still kneading her temples, curling into herself and tucking her head in-between her knees, adding pressure into it. She managed to stop her grunting and moaning, maintaining a steady, if sharp, pace of breathing. Without her knowing, her now-dry hair of silver began floating while multiple red lines began appearing on her bare legs and arms. Grit teeth were visible, having morphed from blunt to sharp some moment ago. Tightly-closed eyes began leaking tears of red, spilling to her pale forearm.

The Spirit's eyes began widening in grim shock over the sudden occurrence, still like stone as she watched unseen claws rake across the girl's body, appearing to the surface in a matter of seconds like a symptom. Instead of the pain intensifying, her condition's only lightening, the tension on Meili's face relaxing and her breathing stabilizing pleasantly.

She uncurled and rolled to her back, her right arm over her eyes while the other lied limp on her belly, its remaining surfaces of white skin unmarred by phantom scratches found only above the elbow while the forearm and hand remained a scalding red, fewer bits of white remaining.

Another five minutes later, her hair sagged to the floor around her head and she suddenly sat up, dizzy and disoriented. Finding her balance in a few seconds and wiping the blood off her eyes, she tugged on her collar and looked under her dress before sighing exasperatingly. "I told them on the belly, not the cheeeeest." She muttered. Then she looked at her arm, eyeing the bright surface of red as she turned it over several times, then she turned to her other arm, and then her legs, eyeing the places she was scratched. "They're gonna ask questions when they seeee these."

"Here's the first: what happened?" Beatrice suddenly asked with a certain level of distress in her voice, eyeing her scratched form with a grimace. "That was no curse nor disease nor related to your headache, in fact. What brought you those lines on your skin just by _reading a book_, I wonder?"

Meili smiled, the sweet quality marred by the lines on her face, "Papa said that if something hurts, make something else huuuurt. It worked when my tummy started hurting after I ate a liver and he pressed his thumbs on my palm so hard it bleeeed."

A new line streaked across her forehead.

The Spirit gave her a dry look, a touch of disgust flashing evident in her butterfly iris eyes, "Your father has _problems_, I suppose. If you suffer headaches from _reading_, then something's wrong with you. And where did those red lines come from?"

"Ghosty claaaaaws." The white child's reply came out in a droll tone, wiggling fingers ominously in Beatrice's direction. Then she stopped and held out the red hand and forearm towards her, "They don't know how to be gentle when holding a haaaand."

"The way Betty sees, they did more than just hold your hand, in fact." Butterfly irises looked over her entire body once more. Face. Neck. Shoulders. Collarbones. Likely the chest. Elbows. Forearms. Hand. Knees. Legs. Feet. Many places are marked with red. "These spirits of yours are particularly violent, I suppose."

Meili wore a wan smile for the Spirit's lack of understanding. The actual meaning of 'Ghost' never actually gets into anybody's head, including a Spirit, unless you use the term 'Hollow'. She honestly wondered why the two terms don't relate together.

She manually fixed her hair in a braid, looking at the door and asking, "If you don't mind me asking, what time is iiiit?"

"A dozen or so minutes after sunset, I suppose."

"Heeeeh. I don't think I've ever studied that long in my liiife." She walked over to her black book, bare feet standing before the pages. Finished with her braid as it obediently remained interweaved without the need of a rubber band, she tapped into her mana core and moved the energy into her hands, coating it in a shade of light green before rubbing them together, as if spinning an invisible stick found in-between rapidly.

….Until it was no longer invisible.

After a couple seconds of rubbing, a little stick made of ivory began growing out of her glowing hands from the top and the bottom. Restrained practice of her new magic is a principle her father told her to enforce on herself, as her pool of power is quite lacking for extended use without the help of Souls. She's been faithful to it, restricting her use of them to practical tasks and insignificant handling like keeping her hair neat.

But when she has the chance to use them, she makes_ sure_ she uses them. She would smile every time, enjoying every little bit of it. What she discovered when she accepted the Contract is still true to this day: Power like this is **intoxicating**. The sensation of superiority fills her mind each time, even if she's only making a little stick.

Trained self-restraint allowing her mind to resist the temptation, she stopped rolling the stick in her hands and rolled the top of it with her thumb and index finger, creating a little flag for a bit of flair.

"Mm hm!" Accomplishment crossing her mind as she held it like a pen, she placed it in-between the page and closed the book, the tip of the ivory bookmark protruding from the top. Picking up the tome and hugging it to her chest lovingly, she turned to Beatrice and said, "I'll be going now, Bettyyy. Thanks for letting me use your rooooom."

"Much less 'let' and more like 'intrude', I suppose." Beatrice never looked up from her book as she replied. "Fix your manners, why don't you? And don't ever come back, in fact."

An ironic look crossed Meili's face.

"Shoo, shoo."

And Beatrice actually waved her off.

Pouting, Meili turned around and walked to the door.

Then she suddenly stopped mid-step with a wide-eyed look on her face, suddenly remembering the reason _why _she came to this place aside from finding a private place to read. "Oooh, Betty, I almost forgoooot." She twirled on her heel, her other leg bent parallel to the ground and landing back to the floor as she faced the grouchy Spirit, "Papa says 'thank you' agaaaiiin."

"Hm?" Butterfly irises looked up from the book.

"You helped Papa with the antidote, riiiight?" Wearing her kindest smile, she sent her Father's regards, "The payment you want was his magic, so Papa said I'm gonna be the one to do juuuust that."

Meili walked over to a bookshelf and placed the black tome on the floor, leant against it.

Beatrice eyed the action with a frown, "What are you doing, I wonder?"

"Since we're gonna be learning together, I'll leave this here to make sure I come baaack."

"What!? Betty didn't say—"

"Okay, bye-bye, Bettyyyy! Let's study together next time, okaaaayyy!"

"Hey! Wait a—"

The door was closed with the white girl in black already out of the room.

Beatrice gave the portal a withering glare, her outstretched hand shaking as it lowered to the book on her lap. "If that brat is that man's daughter, then he is a _poor _father. Her manners are _atrocious_, I suppose…."

Her eyes turned to the big black book leaning against the bookshelf and her expression became grouchier than it already is.

She's beginning to question if the white girl in black is either careless or incredibly stupid. She can understand leaving a book in the hands of a trustworthy keeper but that is a _Spell Book_. You leave it lying around without any sort of precaution, it is bound to be taken away and its secrets leaked out. Magicians have _protocols_, almost equal to a contract, and one among them is _not _leaving their knowledge lying around for strangers to take without the right to, risking to be lost forever.

She will never live it down if that girl _honestly _calls herself a magician. It highly reflects how her 'father' is teaching her. An incompetent father to an incompetent mage.

"Hmph…." Releasing disappointment under her breath and clicking her tongue, she stood up from her chair and placed the book she's holding on her seat with the bookmark placed.

She walked over and picked up the girl's book from the ground, and she couldn't believe it anymore when she surged her senses over it.

There's not even a _single_ ward, enchantment or some sort of seal placed on the tome to keep it locked or its contents hidden. Even a typical padlock would have been acceptable. Does that girl know _nothing_?

Shaking her head, she panned the spine forward and opened up a random page. If that child plans to study with her, then she might as well not make that happen, by reading it ahead of her. No one simply reads the same book alongside the Great Spirit, Beatrice.

She looked over one page….flipped to the next page….then the next.

And steadily, her frown loosened, becoming flat, and then completely emotionless.

She slammed the book shut, a sharp crack echoing in the Archives.

Unless, of course, the entire thing is encrypted by having it written in a language that possibly _nobody _in the world knows about. She's a Spirit with a Witch's knowledge surrounding her, having already read each one, and she does _not _recognize any of the characters.

"Of course, I suppose."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Meili eyed the Blue Maid looking at her with wide-eyes as she stepped out of the room. The Blue Maid eyed Meili as she suddenly appeared from the bathroom she just used, carrying multiple red lines on her body and her whole left hand smudged in red.

"Miss Meili….how were you in there….?"

Smiling, she adjusted the dislodged strap on her left shoulder, drawing attention to the scratches that led to the chest. "Bettyyyy. We just read boooooks together."

Blue nodded uneasily, peering intently at the lines but most prominently, her face. "And could those red lines be….."

"Yesss. It's the Ghostiieesss." Blue likely knew which one she meant, considering that she just saw more than a few of them last night. Judging by the minuscular flinch, she knows. "Where am I noooow? Last time, I entered from the first flooooor."

"The second floor."

"Thank yoouuuu." She picked a side and walked onwards to the lamp-lit hallway, the open windows revealing the darkening sky heralding the evening. _I hope Papa eats properly….wait_. "Blue Maidyyyy."

Blue turned around, facing her again, "Yes?"

"I'm just asking," She suddenly sounded soft and polite, her current demeanor starting to look different than usual. She's aware of it, and she's making sure that Blue takes note of it, to show that she's being serious, "Is there going to be dinner?"

"Um, yes." Blue replied, "Rem's just about to head to the kitchen. Tonight's dish will be beef and vegetable soup. Do you have an order you would like served, Miss Meili?"

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "No." She turned around and continued walking, crossing her arms and her hair began to float without her knowing, "….I don't wanna eat buuut…..I guess I'll eat liiiight." She muttered under her breath, her every footstep uncannily silent despite herself.

She cupped her ears, hoping for _silence_.

Eyes glowing dourly, a sullen sneer on her lips, she sighed deeply with a hint of a growl coming from her throat as she put her hands down after a single minute. "_They_ won't stop."

Putting her hands behind her back, gripping both wrists and straightening her spine, she put her consciousness under the influence of Emotion Suppression. She's getting nervous, and it's positively irking her. She _wants _the reason why Blue attacked Papa, it should be the maid who should be nervous. Why is she having cold feet? Getting angry over these complicated emotions will not do her any good, especially if the Souls try to rupture her body again because of it.

But only if the Souls actually _stop _sending her their sentiments of anticipation on her mind regarding the discussion between her and Blue, she would have succeeded in keeping her nerves together.

She sighed, growling through pointy teeth. She's still susceptible to their influence. She needs more mental strength. Maybe a daylong sleep filled with nothing but nightmares would help. She mustn't be their toy forever, Papa was very firm as he said that. It'd defeat the purpose of being alive again otherwise.

She's _not _another Flesh Golem. She is absolutely _not_. Anyone who thinks otherwise will see the mean side of her.

_I gotta get bigger soon. I don't wanna rely on ghosties too much…._

Her passage to the dining room was solemnly silent, meeting nobody else along the way. She did revel in the fact that she made the lamps die out as she passed them by when she siphoned the mana powering them, leaving behind a darkened hallway. She felt like a horror story monster or an Angry Spirit in a haunted building.

Reaching her destination and opening the door, the lamps came on as they noticed her presence. She drained their energy too, bringing back the dark of the room before closing the door, leave just a crack open before taking her now-usual spot that would be three spaces away from the head of the table on the right. Emily takes the spot next to Rosy. Papa would be right next to her. Then Meili will be right beside him, her spot at the center of the table where she can see everyone at a perfect angle aside from the other head of the table.

Pulling her chair back and sitting down, she rested her elbows on the table and cupped her face, motionless like stone except for her hair that began floating idly.

Without the need of Emotion Suppression, she tried to vanish her disconcerted emotions. Emotions that are _not _hers, she attempted to overwrite them with her own. A troubling thought clouded her mind, however, and it hung on since leaving the Archives: what does she feel _now_? Is she neutral? Is she hungry? Is she sullen? Or is she truly nervous about the discussion between her and Blue?

She scowled underneath her hands, sneering. She hates being confused.

…...

…...…...

…...…...…...

"PFFF!" Suffering a pulse of pain for her efforts, she slammed both her fists to the table, creating a thunderous crack in the deafening silence, the sound itself echoing out the door and into the hallway.

At the same time, a small quantity of mana suddenly expelled themselves out of her form. Despite its minor size, the potency of her mana is above that of an average magician, not enough to match Papa's but it's enough to turn the lamps on again as they drained the residue out of the air.

Her fiery look suddenly lapsed to that of surprise, looking down on her hands curled into fists, still resting on the table and crumpling the white sheets from the impact.

_….didn't Papa do this once?_

Remembering his stories, she let out a huff of breath through her nose. She smoothed the crumples and leaned back into her chair, wanting to laugh but releasing only a weary sigh, holding her face with her gloved hand.

Almost a whole hour of meditation in her seat and she ended up frustrating herself to the point of rage, at which point the Souls didn't approve and sent thousands of needles through her veins. Looking down underneath her dress, it was only one pulse so the purple veins didn't go far beyond the center of her chest.

In the end, she discovered that she _still _doesn't know herself as Meili Sinnuldel.

Taking a deep breath, she drained the mana in the room back to herself and sent the room to complete darkness again.

Since being brought back to life, she had discovered repercussions in her existence as a little girl bearing her Papa's poisonous blood. She can certainly handle most of them. Even with the loss of freedom to express her anger freely, there are a variety of ways she can show it besides fuming. She's not a slave. She can actually do as she wished, providing she can perform the tasks assigned of her, which was reasonable and manageable.

The one thing she hasn't handled yet, however, is the danger of _not_ being herself.

Papa had told her that the people of Pandemonium had justified reasons to fear Necromancy and those who practice it. It is a dangerous class of magic, and every dumb poser who perform its dark arts without knowing any better will have their minds twisted, sense of selves burned away in insanity as they dug deeper into their research, devolving into psychopathic and suicidal maniacs that kill indiscriminately and senselessly. The Order of the Serpent, true and worthy practitioners of black magic, will hunt them down the sooner they caused havoc to the Above-World with their stupidity.

Souls who do not pass on to the Afterlife are hedonistic beings, selfish audiences in a theater, watching the events play out and demanding to be entertained according to their design. Such desires would potentially affect the actors, influencing the actors' movements into performing what they want instead of following the original script.

That actor is Meili Sinnuldel, and she doesn't know what the script _is. _Without it, she cannot perform her part the way it needs to. If she breaks character by being angry, the audience will curse her and throw vegetables on the stage, impeding her performance further.

Knowing oneself is the only shield against the influence of Souls. Souls can easily manipulate her emotions, and they can just as easily twist her body apart the sooner they do. She must know her emotions; more importantly, know herself. Emotion Suppression is just a temporary relief from their manipulations, and no human could live without a heart. The ultimate cure is Self-Actualization. An unstated goal that all humans shared, whether Underground or Above. The achievement to true happiness.

Easier said than done. She emulated Elsa in her first life as Meili Portroute. She was an infiltrator as well, capable of putting on different personalities and mindsets, further complicating her case. In her second life as Meili Sinnuldel, she is now the loving daughter of a man from beyond the Great Waterfall named Emurdol Viandegroc. But even she doubts that it is actually her real self instead of the Souls who adore their relationship and manipulated her emotions, considering that she still harbors the desire of killing him deep within her subconsciousness.

The more she realizes the contradictions of her desires, the more she kept asking:

Who _is _Meili Sinnuldel?

She sighed, dragging her fingers across her face and groaned, "Ooooooooyyyyy…" Bored eyes of olive green glowed in the imperceptible darkness, the sounds of teeth grinding against each other piercing through the eerie silence.

Aside from becoming the accomplished apprentice of a Necromagus, this second life of hers is just a long, _demanding _search for an identity and it's getting difficult everyday, with or without Papa nearby.

For perhaps the umpteenth time, she sighed.

…...

…...…...

…...…...…...

_….what if…what if Papa did it on purpose?_

A certain possibility was discovered, and the glow of her widened eyes brightened.

Is this actually what Papa had planned when he made her his? Did he saw all this coming, that she would have a crises with her sense of self?

No. He _knew_. He definitely _knew_. If this is what she's going to suffer as a wyrmm, it stands to reason that he had went through the same thing as well.

He adopted her to save her from herself. That's what he initially did besides saving her from the unforgiving eyes of the Assassin Organization. If it weren't for him, she would have killed herself with her own emotions. He planned to let her go. At some point, he will.

He _loves_ her, and he shows it whenever he can without hesitation.

He's _helping_ her define her identity. She needs to be strong, and he's making sure that happens. And when she is, she would soon not be needing the constant assistance of Souls anymore like he is. She would be free of them and their demands. She would become _herself_. She would truly formalize the identity of Meili Sinnuldel to herself, a mature, self-defined Mistress of the Dead that commands the beasts of evil birthed by the dreaded Witch of Envy.

She sighed again, clicking her tongue. A sharp slap echoed in the dark room, courtesy of the white hand that came flying to her face.

_I'm such a stupid girl….why didn't I realize that sooner?_

It's one of these days that Meili will freely admit that she's still a child who doesn't know any better, _yet_. She has given everything to him but she still owes him so much.

She held her cheeks, blushing and licking her lips, her impossibly _red_ tongue poking through.

_I guess I'll give him a kiss when he comes back….maybe on the lips._

As soon as the next person who came from the door arrived, who happened to be Emily, Meili freaked her out by wearing the face of a screaming banshee as soon as the lamps came on; white hair fanned out raggedly, eyes widely open and a gaping mouth full of teeth.

The half-elf was nearly reduced to _tears_, and she had discovered that Meili Sinnuldel _knows_ when she's gone too far. The Souls were laughing, but her insides dropped multiple fathoms deep. They may have sway over her emotions but her body is her own, and the body demands she say 'Sorry'.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Dinner was spent with herself doing her best to comfort the rattled Emily, even saying that she'll eat the half-elf's greens in her place for a whole week. She used to hate vegetables herself but the girl who used to is Meili Portroute. Her last name's not Portroute, it's Sinnuldel. Apparently, the greens tasted okay.

Emily was quite easy to please, and dinner went on without trouble, and Rosy was having the time of his life as he watched the proceedings, chuckling and making jokes in his spine-tingling drawl. She didn't stay long like she did with breakfast where she chatted for as long as she liked. As soon as her plate was empty, she excused herself and went to her room.

She sat on her bed, hugging her knees close to herself at the head of it, looking out to the now-open window where the moonlit yard is seen. In accordance to her liking, there's little light made in the room except for the time magic stone hung up by the wall and the shine of the Dragon's eye.

Motionless, hair afloat, she put herself under the influence of Emotion Suppression. The Souls are getting even more anxious, and it's getting annoying when she herself won't stand being nervous when Blue comes in. It made the wait long, however.

But still, she waited, looking at the same patch of ground outside the window, imagining the ways it could be occupied with activity. Her best choices in mind were witchbeasts staring at the mansion with bloodthirsty eyes, about to storm inside and murder the occupants in their sleep; a skeleton army of her making, all armed with unlikely implements of war and murder scattered around the mansion; or just herself and Papa playing the game of catch.

Feeling for her Link, she found him still inside the cave.

_What's he doing now? He forgave his mama, what's he doing in his spare time?_

She sighed, stretching out her legs and leaning back against the wall. Stretching her hands up, yawning, she adjusted the strap of her dress on her shoulder and crossed her arms. "I don't feel sleeeepy." It must have been the food. Maybe she'll spend her waking time in the bone tree, putting the knowledge she gathered in the Archives for some experimentation.

_Hopefully, I don't need a dead body._

A nudge on her consciousness coming from the left warned her of a presence arriving from the hall.

Emotion Suppression.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the two entities from behind the walls. She felt them stop behind the door. After a few seconds of them having a short exchange of words under whispers….

…the door opened.

Emotion Suppression.

She opened her eyes and turned to the portal, seeing Blue with her hand on the knob and a resigned look on her face.

Emotion Suppression.

Seeing Red's back from the opening, she told the little sister in an impersonal voice, "Close the door."

Nodding lightly, eyes facing the ground the whole time, she gently closed the door, the lightest thud emanating from the closure.

Leaning away from the wall, Meili moved over to the edge of the large bed, gestured for the skeletons to close the window, and patted a spot next to her, "Sit here."

Blue obeyed wordlessly, finding her way just fine despite the minimal amount of light in the room, almost silent in her footsteps before sitting down primly, the bed shifting to accommodate her weight. Meili could see the guilt in her light blue eyes, as apparent as a bloodstain.

And she remained there, eyeing the Blue Maid from the side, motionless as a statue with a piercing glow in her olive green eyes, saying nothing. The little sister sat demurely, her hands together atop her lap and saying nothing as well, waiting for a prompt to speak.

The silence hung on for more than two minutes. When Meili was satisfied, she finally gave it, "_Speak_." Blue lightly flinched before turning to her, guilt-ridden eyes of light blue struggling to meet hers. "Why? Why did you do it when Papa did _nothing _to you?"

The maid's gulp was audible in the tense silence, and sweat was starting to show on her neck, finding the atmosphere of the room unbearable. With trembling lips, she answered her, "Ser Emurdol….carried….the scent of the witch….."

Meili listened, with patience and understanding, keeping her emotions from obstructing the hearing. Blue began with a slight exposition of her origins. From being the last of the Demon Kind alongside her sister to the time when she was taken in by the Master of the Mansion, Meili was still without the slightest inch of movement. Not a blink. Not an intake of breath. Not even a twitch of movement in the eye. Eventually, the Maid reached the part of the explanation about why she was antagonistic to Papa. The more she explained, the more apparent her tears were becoming. One sentence at a time, the guilt became more and more obvious.

The maid thought Papa was one of the people who razed her village to the ground, murdered her parents and its people, took her sister's horn, and massacred the relatives of Roswaal's family when one of the three ringleaders hunted her and her sister down to the Roswaal Domain.

All because he smelled like one of them.

Smoke, ash, burnt rubber, and rusty steel mixed together. Papa had a certain kind of scent around him, not even he knows why or where it came from. It hung around him like a clingy disease no matter what he does or where he goes. It happened to be called the Scent of the Witch, and Meili happened to be the first to find out, not him.

Because of that scent, he was eventually forced to leave of his own volition for the sake of the Mansion's stability. And that only led to more losses coming Papa's way when the Maid didn't even allow him the right to leave.

The Maid was regretful, but her attempts to rectify her mistakes only made it worse.

"Rem….hic….Rem is a bad maid…." Blue sobbed, wiping away the cascade of tears with her hands and failing miserably. "…..Rem….Rem let this all happen…."

Self-depreciation was all that ever came out of her mouth, every syllable chipped and cracked under her tears, drenching her hands and sleeves even further. Every loss and every circumstances that happened during Papa's stay in the mansion, she took all the blame to herself.

Point for point, she's not wrong. At the same time, Meili's impersonal mind had noticed other factors that led to the disaster. Papa had been antagonistic as well, practically without provocation, making him liable to the blame as well. Logic, however, dictates that the actions made by the little sister was actually what made it all reach the breaking point in the end.

Papa didn't want any trouble and only wished to last 5 days in the mansion. His attitude towards Blue on the first day when he was going to amputate his hand cannot be excused, but what the latter did during the second night, lashing her weapon at him in the hallway when he literally did _nothing_ except suddenly keel over and vomit blood while the Scent got even worse, however, render her actions completely irrational and now unworthy of any sympathy. Wouldn't the sensible thing to do as a Maid, of all things, be that you run over and see what's wrong with him?

She may have little reason to trust him during the witchbeast incident, but even she should understand that he could have easily killed her there that night in the witchbeast forest despite multiple opportunities, where she was so far away from the Mansion or any sort of help. But he didn't. Instead, he warned her of her Cursed condition, _blatantly _telling her to retreat back to the village so he can cure her and the children of their curse the sooner he brings Meili, the Seventh Child, to safety. It was a clear and obvious sign that he was _not_ an enemy.

She didn't listen, and she failed to catch on. She went after him because she still doesn't trust him this _one last time_. That led to her being attacked by his skeletons, then the witchbeasts, and then forced Papa to save her from being overwhelmed. He lost his throat and voice in the process.

And including the fact that he had to save her _again _due to uncontrollable circumstances because Grandma went rogue and poisoned her in her sleep, leading to a violent spat that nearly destroyed the Mathers Domain but somehow got mysteriously rectified, Blue took the blame on its occurrence as well even though _no one_ could have faulted her for any of it. Not even Uncle had seen it coming.

But Meili doubts that she'll see things in her point of view. This maid seems so adamant in thinking that everything is her fault.

Sniffling, wiping her nose and face with a handkerchief before blowing on it, Blue turned to face her with swollen red eyes and asked, her voice cracking pathetically that it was almost unheard. The silence of the room and Meili's improved hearing allowed her to hear it anyway, "Does this satisfy you, Miss Meili….? Has this lowly, worthless Demon answered all your questions….?"

….

…...…...

…...…...…...

That's a question Meili's asking too.

With the influence of Emotion Suppression hardening her heart, she's completely apathetic to the explanation she received. Despite having the answer to all her questions, she still hasn't moved the slightest twitch. She's not sure how to react, uncertain of what Meili Sinnuldel would do, the daughter of the man who suffered under Blue's hands. Should she cry for the maid and embrace her? Should she shout and curse the maid? Or would she just sit there and stare, judging her?

The Souls are contesting with themselves. Some pitied her. Some despised her even more. If she allows them to control her heart, an unpredictable response would likely come through. And she's not eager to find out what it is.

Her emotionless gaze wandered to the sheets, pursing her lips and taking a deep breath through her nose. With or without a heart, she finally has her answer. Her thoughts on the matter does not have any relevance to it anyway. Now, Papa just needs to hear about this and finalize his decision on whether to come back or leave for good afterwards.

Deciding to play the part of Papa's baby girl, she shifted closer to the maid and wrapped her little arms around her neck. She stroked her head and patted her back, the gentlest of touches she gave. Her face never twitched the slightest all the way, dull olive green eyes staring into space and a flat line on her lips.

Her heartless self cannot be sure but certain factors dictate that this sort of behavior has the most likelihood of what Meili Sinnuldel would do.

Parting from her robotic attempt to console, Meili took the handkerchief in the maid's hands and wiped away the residues of tears and snot off her face. Afterwards, she gave it back and led her to the door, holding her hand tenderly all the way with her left one.

Opening the door, Red was stood in the way facing her, as if having expected the exchange to be finished long ago. Wordlessly, Meili took her left hand with her gloved right and put it into contact with Blue's before saying, "To bed."

Nodding, Red gently pulled her little sister out of the room and onwards to their quarters, holding a lamp with the other hand before pulling Blue closer in a side-hug.

As soon as Meili closed the door, she already had the skeletons open the window again before she jumped out of it. Still under the influence of Emotion Suppression, she didn't care when her knee-long skirt flew up to her collarbone in her drop, the waistband and belt bag preventing the dress from flying off her body entirely, before roughly landing on all fours on the earth before springing off to a dash towards the gate.

Surgically-improved legs blurring in her barefooted sprint and stiffening readily, silver tresses and her dress flying behind her from the wind resistance, she smoothly ejected off the ground, over the gate and back to the earth without the loss of a beat or speed. Meili Portroute would not have been able to do that without the help of a beast.

Dirt kicked up behind her, and under the Dragon's Eye, she left a trail of dust on the road that slowly disappeared in a couple of seconds. In a pace like this, she would be faster than a full-grown man. Her soles landed on rocks, rough soil, and the traction would have skidded the skin off them for the amount of strength she's exerting just for a single step.

Thankfully, she had already suffered the agony of the feet and had it rectified long ago. The moment she snapped the straps of her villager shoes and rendered them useless, she was barefoot for the entirety of her time with Papa. More than she could handle, she was told not to yelp nor to show the pain on her face when she stepped on something sharp or even lacerated her left sole.

With her father's blood, infection in the wounds is no longer a concern for her. An advantage like that made a long walking trip with him a living hell. He didn't teach her Reconstruction beforehand, he didn't give her a healing elixir for them nor did he modify her legs till they finally stopped after an 18 hour trek. She was glad he let her sleep the entire operation away, otherwise she would never stop venting out the screams she's been holding in.

Now, it will take more than skids and pointy rocks to damage the hardened skin of her soles. Meili Sinnuldel would prefer shoes, however, that is most certain. This heartless side of herself disregarded them completely, rationalizing that since she's only sending a message, she wouldn't need them for now.

Running for a whole 10 minutes without slowing down, not the slightest bit exhausted or sweating, she finally reached Earlham Village and slid to a stop on her heels, tiny hills of dirt gathered up under her soles. Unsurprisingly, she found Uncle seated on the foundation of the water well, motionless as a statue. A self-employed night watchmen guarding the humble village since more than a few days ago. His kitty mask turned to face her as she approached, "Hello. What are you doing here?"

She quickly laid a hand on his robed shoulder, and the Souls spoke on her behalf. Emotion Suppression allowed her to remember that Uncle is _not_ a living being. He is a Flesh Golem; a _Soul_ given a body of flesh, a dead man walking in essence, therefore he can communicate with other Souls quite easily compared to a living Priestess of the Serpent.

There was a minuscular flinch on his body a second after being touched, acknowledging the information in an instant. Not having nor needing a brain, the requirement to process the information is radically skipped. The gist of it is clear to him already.

"Ah….well, this is _very _interesting." He stroked the chin of his mask before noticing her bare white feet. He knelt down and held one ankle, angling it so he can see her sole, dirty but free of any injury. "Why are you not wearing shoes?"

"I wasn't going to stay long." She answered simply.

She turned to look at her face, even though he doesn't need to. "You locked down your emotions." It wasn't a question. He already figured out why she would do so before she said anything.

"_They_ would make me do something I shouldn't. Can you make them stop?" It wouldn't be enough to stop their influence but the lesser their numbers around her, the more likely her emotions can be dominant. She can keep the Friendly Soul, however.

"Your Father would not allow it." He let go of her ankle and stood straight. "I suggest you meditate to the bone tree and commune with _them_. It will help you neutralize their influence."

Meili looked down, suddenly releasing the locks of her Emotion Suppression. The influx of emotions were quite overwhelming, the urge to cry and the want to lash out mixing together in a dangerous chaos. Whether these emotions are her or not, all of it originated from the aftermath of Blue's explanation. It's _killing _her. She wants to hug someone. She wants to kill someone. She wants to kiss someone. She wants to torture someone. The desires don't correlate well, and the backlashing pulse across her body made her croak, clutching her heart.

Blood-soaked eyes of olive green turned to Uncle, a soft mumble coming out of her mouth, "Can I see Papa….?"

His leather index finger poked her forehead, and his other hand waved off the Souls around her, legitimately shutting them up and neutralizing her rampant emotions. The pulse is gone. She let out a relieved sigh, wiping the blood on her eyes. Souls apparently follow a certain hierarchy. Whoever is the most tied to the flesh has the strongest sway over the others. Even the lightest bit of attachment to fleshly desires is considered dominating, and Uncle's attachment to his duty is considered commanding.

"That's a temporary relief." He informed, "And no, you may not."

She scowled and pouted, looking down on her bare feet. Why didn't she bring her shoes with her? Stupid Emotion Suppression.

"Do not get me wrong." He suddenly assured, "He misses you and would want nothing more than to see you again. And since we can now tell him why the Little Bitch attacked him, I'm very certain he's coming back to you sooner than you think."

She looked up to him, "Really?"

"I know my Brother well, Niece. He won't be satisfied unless he hears the truth directly from her mouth." He held her shoulders and twisted her around before nudging her forward, telling her to go back to the mansion and either sleep or go meditate. "Now go. I will report to him immediately. He _must_ be informed of this."

"Okaaay." She was in a happy mood now, though she didn't smile. Is it the Souls again? Is it the prospect of seeing Papa again? Or is this the satisfaction of a job well done? Well, that doesn't matter. She can confirm that Meil Sinnuldel would be fine with whatever. She hurried back to him and gave him a peck on the cheek of his kitty mask, "Good niiiight, Uncle."

"You too, Niece."

Not needing to hurry, she walked back to the mansion, cutting through dark unilluminated forests and ignoring the road, briefly wondering if Meili Portroute would dare walk into scary dark places without witchbeasts guarding her compared to Meili Sinnuldel who lost the fear of the dark unknown.

Later that midnight, standing next to the bone tree and spectated by a wide audience of Souls, a whole afternoon spent reading actually paid off, newly discovered spells now added to her arsenal with many more to come and make Papa proud.


	16. Unfair

_The traveler looked over his shoulder once again, leaving it up to the red ground dragon to find the path and staring at the two forms of his two passengers resting at the back of his carriage, one tightly enclosed in the arms of the other. Both were silver-haired, pale-skinned, and heavily-tattered when he found them walking on the side of the road, as if they just barely escaped something violent with their lives. The smell of blood and the sight of their right hands didn't help matters either. They were both exhausted as well, blatantly saying that they haven't eaten and drank anything for days._

_It wasn't right to leave them like that, so he offered them a ride to wherever they needed to go. He assured them that he didn't need pay when they pressed for it. They wordlessly entered and held each other tightly, trying to get the pain off their minds with each other's warmth. He thought he saw them shuddering, so he offered them the clothes he had packed in his luggage. It's not like he wants to keep those garments anymore. Vollachia is behind him now. _

_As always, they pressed him about their payment but he brushed it off. He had enough money to buy himself new ones and maybe a place to take rent in Lugnica before he's finally able to buy a house of his own. It took them almost a whole six hours before the Mathers domain was within sight._

_As they stepped off the carriage, wearing their new clothes that appeared to fit them quite well, with the little girl wearing a glove that hid her burnt arm, they moved as if the ordeal they went through didn't even happen. Their legs aren't even shaking anymore, and their composure is stable. When they turned their green eyes to his direction, however, she saw nothing but gratitude in them._

_The daughter hopped up to the driver's seat and gave a kiss to his cheek before nearly crushing his neck with her tight embrace. The father was the second to step up to him, grabbing his hand with his skeletal one, and placed a large green colored gem on his palm, practically shining off the rising sun. The reflections and the glints from it created mesmerizing projections on his tunic. He has no precise eye for rare minerals but he should know very well that this stone could sell for more than an entire chest full of gold. It could fill _50 _of them._

_It could have been their heirloom or a keepsake, so he was hesitant to accept, but the daughter said that it was a fair exchange. His kindness to them was something they have never tasted for a long, long time. It gave them the will to keep on going, live on, knowing that there are still good men like him in the world._

_With a hesitant nod, he accepted the giant gemstone and bumped foreheads together with the pale man. A gesture of gratitude. He hoped he will see them again, expecting that they managed to build a good life for himself and his daughter, so she could grow up to become beautiful and him to reach a ripe old age full of happiness._

_Waving goodbye to each other, he snapped the reins and his ground dragon pulled his carriage to Lugnica in an upbeat pace, the burning warmth that's been growing in his chest since he looked into their grateful eyes staying with him all the way. _

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

One dip of the held pipe and the witchbeast's body was torn apart, the green vapors of the Smoky Bull separating all four limbs and extracting the insides straight out of the slit belly the sooner it was inhaled by the creature before being wrung in half, squirting blood everywhere.

"That's one hundred beasts…." Remarked a honey-glazed voice, puffs of green smoke flowing out of lipless maws. "Viandegroc was right. It _does _feel supreme…."

Raising her nonexistent gaze upwards, the entire section of the forest floors in front of her is littered with nothing but the mutilated bodies of every witchbeast that came to claim territory, some clumped together in large haphazard piles. And more just seems to keep coming despite the obvious difference in power of who has the right of claim to the land.

A manticore-like species of its kind had arrived too, the only one to have gotten as close as a meter away from her. A great subject to study for later.

She shook her head, wondering if this is what Viandegroc has to go through in every weekly feast, looking at the continued stupidity performed by creatures functioning outside the Natural Order of Things. "Truly creatures of the devil. They don't know when to stop….."

Taking a deep pull from her pipe, she blew out a humongous cloud from her numerous openings and it moved over to the many, many bodies in front of her as if it were alive and hungry. With a stretched out middle finger, she gestured a beckoning and the vapors pushed every corpse she's responsible for into a single pile in front of her, leaving behind large trails of blood and smearing the entire forest floors, glistening under the sunlight breaching through trees with black or red.

Expanding her upper body in size, making her arms extend morbidly while leaving the lower half and her third arm holding the pipe unchanged, she carefully reached forward with her gigantic limbs to scoop massive handfuls from the body pile without knocking over any trees before dropping them into the gaping maw on her face, reaching from below her nonexistent nose to above her ribcage. It is wide enough to fit a regular mud golem in.

And she _gorged_. It's almost a reflection of who she once was in her living life. She was, of course, the Supreme Corruption of Gluttony. The difference is she only ate the vapors of her stress-relieving 'medicine', keeping the stress of being a Marchioness away while making her body very hypersensitive. The addiction she developed was never dealt with, instead she enabled it. And she soon discovered that sex can never feel like absolute heaven without it. Oh, the debauchery she practiced with _every _male in the land she owned. And she was _so _young.

The withdrawal was when it all got even worse than when the men mutilated her vengeful husband in front of her and she enjoyed it. She became hungry. _Very_ hungry. And it never got sated until she found a fix deep within the ground, heavily populated by hellspawns who _let _her have it before they had their way with her.

It became her own deathtrap when the latest 'visitor' was extremely vicious and wanted her dead. And she never realized that she was no longer human till she actually died.

She never thought she would end up eating like this again, especially the way she is. She isn't messy in a sane state of mind, and raw meat is only delicious under a withdrawal. The anatomy of a flesh golem literally _encouraged _feasting on anything organic flesh, alive or not. Even the back of her thoughts are muddled with the constant desire to _eat_.

The rhythmic sounds of scrunching and squelching coming from her chewing slowly drawing to a stop, her pantry now emptied and leaving the forests free of witchbeasts for now, and she unconsciously wiped her gigantic maw free of blood with the back of her equally large hand of four fingers before she shrunk herself back to humanoid proportions. Taking the pipe from her third hand before letting it sink back into her side, she took a long pull and let out the vapors delicately, seeping through her numerous openings.

She eyed the corpse of the manticore witchbeast she refrained from eating, "The boy would likely find interest this one. I'll take you home…." The vapors fumed underneath its corpse, the smoky platform levitating it off the ground with its head, limbs and tail sagging from the edges.

The walk home took more than an hour, with the corpse behind her likely decomposing and attracting flies, but she eventually reached the hole on the ground. Into the unlit caverns that has reached even further down and expanded more than hundreds of meters away since Emurdol now had a daughter to love, she went over to the greatly spacious extension of the cave that served as the meat storage where many bodies of witchbeasts were neatly arranged in bone hooks or lined on ivory tables. She placed the chimera's corpse near the entry way, easy to spot once he steps inside.

Walking over to the private quarters that served as both Meili's and his room, she turned her nonexistent eyes to the corner where a table and bench to serve as a study is placed. And placed on the surface of the ivory table was a highly ornate battle axe of great size, a black bone dagger, and a leather helmet shaped like a crow head.

And seated on the bench facing away from the table and holding his face with both flesh and bone, motionless as a statue, was Emurdol.

Learning the context behind what actually happened between him and the Demon Maid once he heard it from Viandegroc affected him quite greatly.

And she is not liking the sight of it. If she had a proper face, she would have presented the scowl she was famous for when she was no longer human. This sort of behavior is unbecoming from someone like him. She will not accept it. Not like this.

Her voice echoed in the cavern, "I come back with high expectations and I see you heerrrrre…..moping." She took a short pull of her pipe, seeping out in each syllable out of her mouth, "You should already be gone, seeing the poor maid and be with your darling daughter afterwards…."

She deliberately let her footsteps echo, announcing her presence as she walked closer to him. The closer she got, the more his fingers curled and his head ducking even lower.

She stood right in front of him, nonexistent eyes glowering over him like a stern mother to a son as more mouths appeared on her mannequin-like body out of annoyance, gritting their teeth so hard that the grinding sounds reached far outside the section of the cavern they were in. "Is wallowing in self-pity and regret the best you could do? Hm?"

Her diction maintained the frequency it had to sway hearts, the flesh golem having amazingly matched the one she had in her living life back in Pandemonium, but the reprimanding tone was very noticeable. "It amazes me how the Hero of Pandemonium could be so easily put down by _one _mistake….when you have made MORE!"

Suddenly, her hand shot out from downwards to grab his throat in-between his forearms and his back slammed hard against the table, jolting the weapons and the mask atop from their places. His hands grabbed her wrist in a tight grip, but it was feeble compared to his actual strength. His ragged face is now visible as he looked at her with gritted teeth. The white of his eyes were tinged red from the bloody tears, the light in his green orbs so dim it could not be seen in complete darkness, and his cheeks were greatly red.

This is so pathetic. She could barely stand doing this. Why is the man keeping her from the Nothingness so complicated and had to be delicately handled? He has been getting emotionally volatile since coming to this world, and it's only going to get worse now that every Soul in the wand are given the right to _Live_, to influence the world once more through Meili's Flesh Golem.

She took a long pull from the pipe in her other hand before continuing, the vapors leaking out in each syllable but never touching Emurdol's face.

"Take responsibility. You are at fault, she is at fault. You are both to blame for each other's suffering. The reason all this happened was because you two never spoken _properly_ to each other. You barely respected each other's existence, and you both _refuse _to understand the other." She tightened her grip on his throat, threatening to give him harm despite the fact that he was the creator of her and the Court's body, "Grow a pair and face her already. You have vowed to love your daughter above all else and support Emilia's fight for the Seat of Power, and you are making that a complete difficulty by _being here. _You _wanted _to hear it straight out of her mouth—you want to hear it yourself so you will not be fooled by any lie, so _go_! You're _killing _that girl by the sheer guilt of the deeds she has done to you! She's _regretful_! If you _truly _wish to forgive her, _at least _listen to her apologize or explain herself! It will ease her heart and yourself."

And she pushed him against the table again as she let go of his neck, jolting the mementos of every Supreme Sin he killed once again.

He glared at her as he rubbed his scarred neck, having recently-operated on not long ago, but the light in his eyes were weak. She is right, and he knows that. And his daughter is _counting _on him to make do with what Viandegroc had said. He will return to the Mansion soon, he said, and 'soon' is either now or later. The latter choice is no longer applicable.

A monstrous scowl crossed his features before he slammed his fists on his bony thighs. Astonishingly, there was no sound of the bones underneath the baggy cloth cracking under the force of the blow. Truly a work of genius made by the hand of the greatest Osteomancer of the Order of the Serpent back in Pandemonium.

Emurdol stood up, sneering lightly, and he faced the table again, reaching for the axe—

She immediately stopped his hand from even brushing his fingers against it, his wrist caught in a rather painful four-fingered grip. Lesser humans would have buckled and croaked from the pain, but not his kind. They don't show that sort of weakness. He only turned a questioning glare at her.

"You are _not_ heading for a fight, just to remind you. You don't need them, and you don't need _any _of us in the way. Leave them here under my watch." She firmly told, her tone implying that there will be no arguments on it. "Approach her as yourself."

He stared at her for only a couple seconds before he submitted, lowering his hand and placing his wand there as well. She could not believe it happening in front of her. He rarely ever leaves it behind, much less let a minion watch over it aside from Moman.

Reaching into the void, he pulled out the bottle that contained the Supreme Corruption of Envy's disembodied head inside, staring vacantly into space as he bobbed in the depths of the embalming liquid. He placed the container on the table surface with a light thump. An impressive display of self-control compared to just slamming it down. _[Do you need to talk to them?]_

Despite having no bodily detail or the muscle memory to indicate emotion, she tried to regain her composure anyway. "Urgently, I do."

_[What time is it?]_

"Two hours before dusk."

_[Then by evening, I shall go.] _Turning on his stilted feet, he walked out of the cavern and headed to the second most expansive part of the cave that served as a training area, where he and Meili once tried to kill each other with their skeletal creations. Just yesterday, he and Moman played an extreme game of tag.

After finding the latter in the place that was once a village that housed the last of the Demon race before the last two survivors were taken in by Roswaal, she was forced back into enslavement and made to construct a new pair of legs for him. Being the greatest in Bone Magic, no one doubted that she'll create something incredibly versatile and strong, to better help her son in surviving a world that hates their kind. In fact, witchbeast anatomy gave way to incredible designs.

And Emurdol loved what she had made: light, highly durable, capable of storing _incredible _amounts of bone dust in the ivory mass, and built in the likeness of a clockwork automaton's makeup without being too bulky, saving him from having to manipulate multiple joints at once for even the simplest motions. It can also change its shape without the need to be molded like clay first, premade designs allowing them to shift into weapons, flexible spinal columns, or more legs with only a thought.

Before Moman became independent and made their bodies as one, he had to rely on his own mental dexterity to manipulate multiple leg joints at the same time just to manage a _single _step forward without falling over. It was impossible at first, so he created a mobile and multi-legged throne. It was slow and made for a bigger target, so he lessened the number of legs to four and more integrated to his waist. It was a decent design, with fair speed, endurance, reliability and agility. Years later, when he wanted to go further, he returned to having only two legs. After months of surviving the hunting parties that went after him or the self-appointed quests he took in quelling the lands of every hellspawn that existed through charted or uncharted territory in Pandemonium, he finally attained the subconscious control over his legs that matched a normal biped organism that he began constantly forgetting that he had _none_ in the first place.

It was two years later when he gave Moman freedom and became one with her and finally becoming the Powerhouse they were renowned for in Pandemonium where only the remaining Supreme Sins would have been capable of killing him, and died trying to like the others he's killed before them.

Now, that Unity is broken for _good_. It was a venomous relationship in the first place. Emurdol had learned diplomacy and would choose its benefits over needless violence, Moman thought otherwise and held suspicion over everyone he met. Sometimes she's right, sometimes she made a big mistake. He could barely notice her rogue actions of 'protecting' him, and it put his decision to give her freewill into question each time he notices. Her lack of reason and self-control left no trace of the honorable, systematic and ethical Queen of Ivory she once was in her living life.

The actions she did to 'protect' him from the distrusting maid was the final nail in the coffin. Though he had now forgiven her, what they once had together between Mother and Son in Pandemonium is _over._ It will _never _happen again. One thing about trust for a Priest of the Serpent, it is _sacred_. It is completely unspeakable to have it broken, especially between _family._

Considering how different this world is from their old one, it was definitely for the best.

Sally turned her nonexistent eyes to the other corner, where a certain four-armed skeleton lied over a skeletal bed, donning pauldrons, rerebraces, couters, vambraces, gauntlets, fauld, cuisses, polyn, greaves and sabatons of northern makeup and necromantic aesthetic with a light-eating robe over it all that rendered its existence practically part darkness.

If one looks closely, the bones of stone trolls that were renowned to be as hard as the name implies are sporting a thousand cracks, as if every fragment of the frame was put together with sticky paste.

Sighing, her lungs working just to have it happen, she sat down on the bench facing the ivory table, arranging the mementos in a sorted fashion according to who died first and who died last. Despite the lack of a brain, the chapters of every owner's life passed through her consciousness as if she had went through them herself.

Viandegroc was the first, the ivory knife stained with the blood of everything it killed, murdered by Emurdol when he was correctly suspected to be the Supreme Corruption of Lust who reveled over the sensation of power he received from the Order of the Serpent and was on the verge of losing his sense of self despite the torture he suffered from the loss of his eyesight. He was the opposite of what the Order embodies, so the knife that came to slit his throat was bound to come and claim him.

Bartholomew was the second, a bastard son who murdered his biological family and the people of the lands they owned, jealous over the happiness others have enjoyed as a family compared to him who had suffered for being born from a servant and suffered hell for it that he brought them back to life upon murdering them and relived many scenarios that he so wanted from the beginning. The Supreme Corruption of Envy was soon eaten by the corpses he enslaved and was beheaded afterwards. The Order of the Serpent do _not _suffer posers of necromancy, and Emurdol made that clear.

She herself was next in line. A young lady stressed under the responsibility of being a noble that she turned to a drug that was supposed to be taken at responsible doses. She stopped caring about risks and took a whole amount when she was about to crumble from the weight of it all, and hypersensitivity kicked in soon after. She took even more, and soon discovered sex to be a far more effective persuasion tactic into getting what she wants. It is _more _drugs. The hunger withdrawal eventually kicked in when she ran out that she ate her partners, male and female, human or otherwise, young or old, and the land she owned slowly became a living hell until she found the cave. Her Gluttony as well as herself soon became the next to fall, tortured to death in her lair when a necromagus found out where she was hiding. Her pipe was all that was intact. The lair and everyone else inhabiting it is either killed or reduced to a bloody paste.

Lucifer was the one to have given Emurdol a true battle in his life that nearly sent him to his meeting with the Dragon. A conquering king whose benevolence is overshadowed by his arrogance. What he does not have, he will take even though he has so much. So much land he rules over, he wants to have even more. He wanted all the adoration the commoners could give to their betters to himself, he destroyed every competition that exists in every other kingdom and sacked them for his ownership. It was quick for his image to devolve into that of a tyrannical despot. And his corrupt public image became an _obsession. _His interests soon turned into the want for all of hatred to be turned towards him afterwards, _solely _for him. Atrocity after atrocity, he did it all to turn the eye of hatred towards his direction. A desire easily succeeded, and have unfortunately involved one of the very few people Emurdol ever cared about. All that Greed became his downfall. What he did to draw out even more hatred from a near-dying Necromagus did not save him from the Vengeful Souls who broke into the Living Realm and ripped his _supremely _impervious body to pieces. His Great Axe should have been handed over to the Order of the Serpent by now for safekeeping.

William was the final Sin to be killed. Someone who was assumed to be immortal and unkillable. A claim so easily debunked by a _single little nick _from a black bone knife. It indeed took an entire two hours to kick in but he fell all the same. Alive for as long as he claimed, he had been helping the misfortunate and the afflicted with _anything_. He was needless and practically wealthy. He doesn't even need to rest. He was easily loved and declared a Saint for all his deeds. His magnificent deeds overshadow the deeds of the corrupt men who also benefitted from him. His desire to help is genuine and endless, but he does not discriminate from _who_ he should help. He had no moral center. He only helped for the sake of helping. He never does so to see _good _results, only the act itself, no matter if it ruins people's lives or sends them to a hell that they didn't deserve so long as the ones he helped get what they want. Anyone who dared question his actions is met with violent retaliation, greatly emphasizing that he helped to make _people _feel better, no matter _who_ it is. There had been other Good Samaritans who profess the true Good of all things, and he killed them because they _take away _his purpose to exist. True to the holder of the Supreme Corruption of Pride. Emurdol had resurrected every corpse defiled by his _'help' _from the day William was born and had them brutalize his corpse the sooner he can no longer fight back. A whole month of torture was _almost _not enough for all the things he's done in his long life. Behind the crow mask he wore to hide his identity, it was just a man who can no longer be called a human.

Sally eyed the wand that was placed below the row of mementos, subtly glowing from the eyes of the skull placed at the top of it.

It was no secret that Emurdol's Mother was the Supreme Corruption of Wrath. Human or not, there will be someone who will bear the Corruption that was once ripe in Pandemonium in its Golden Days before it was usurped. The Order of the Serpent are no exceptions. Compared to the others, she was in complete control of what could have made her become worthy of the title. She was never wrathful or spiteful. She was a graceful Priestess of the Serpent, impartial and fair to all she met, never an irrational action done and kept her emotions in check without extensive use of Emotion Suppression. She even fell in love with an Above-Worlder. The man himself was a member of the Order of Witch Hunters, an _enemy _of the Order of the Serpent. He was a fair and rational man just like her, thinking before acting, seeing that the Lady Necromagus targeted the Apocalypse Beasts, never harmed an innocent and only killed humans out of self-defense, defying all orders and protocols that was ever ingrained to his head. He was sentenced to death for his presumed 'insolence' and he defected to settle down with her.

The moment she was round with child, that was when her Corruption finally became ripe. She was vulnerable and the wrathful members of the Order of Witch Hunters took the moment to strike when she was at her weakest. Her beloved husband lost his life to defend her at the moment of Emurdol's birth. Her Wrath dealt the Order a heavy blow that their dignity as Protectors in the Shadows are defiled forever when she tracked them down to their most secret base of operations and annihilated every single member she met, including their greatest fighters and their key figures, all while she sat on a palanquin of ivory, carried forward by four members of the Apocalypse Legion, and held her infant son in her arms as he cried for the loss of a Father at the moment of his first breath.

The Order of Witch Hunters are quite tenacious that they have easily rebuilt themselves in a matter of years but they have never recovered from the trauma of her attack and they now knew better the next time they see a Priest of the Serpent in their sights.

She returned Underground afterwards and entrusted Emurdol to the Immortal Queen Lady Sabarra. She was aware of her growing Corruption of Wrath, and she's completely aware that she will end up doing unforgivable things purely for the sake of her son—she will make _everyone_ her enemy because of her love for her child, including the Order she was religiously devoted to. A self-righteous _monster._ It will make her no different than the other Supreme Sins that still ran rampant on the world above and she will not dishonor the name of the Order of the Serpent with her existence. With a heavy heart, she took her own life by setting her body on fire with every Underground inhabitant witnessing the event, weeping tears of blood in sympathy on the behalf of her sleeping son and singing a dirge in her name.

It's quite ironic that an action intended to snuff the blight that would have been wrought by Wrath ended up doing the complete opposite when Emurdol beckoned her Soul from the Afterlife and had her stay inside a skeletal shell of her burnt remains just to have a semblance of a Family in his life. The world continues to work in strange ways, Sally reflected.

She turned her nonexistent eyes to the entrance of the cavern they were in, the same one Emurdol used just minutes ago.

There had been debate in the Court whether the boy himself is the Supreme Corruption of Sloth, just to entertain the thought of _every _Supreme Sin gathered in a single vessel—something that is _impossible_—and it continues to this day where there had been multiple signs and inconsistencies of his confirmation. However, since Emurdol left behind the mementos of the Sins he killed and swore to face the maid at dusk, that makes the answers clear if he was or not. The moment he _actually _goes, it's now legitimate in the confirmation that he is _not_ Sloth.

Taking a last pull of her pipe and letting it out delicately, she relaxed on her seat and reached into the Court as she laid a single finger on the grip of the wand.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

All eyes were aimed on the center of the circular gathering, and in the middle was the Mother of Emurdol, knelt on the stony floors of the Underground city she used to walk on with pride, wearing the traditional robes of ordained Priestesses of the Serpent, tinged in light-eating black and lined with bones of her making.

Despite the loss of her authority and command over the other Souls, she still manages to be graceful in her loss despite being dead. She is grieving and the emotion is _extremely _raw from her presence, everyone could feel it like it was their own, but the way she conveyed it from her faux-form never made dejection look so beautiful before.

She was tall in her living life, true to common traits of people Underground, enough to be face to face with Sally if she were standing. Even while kneeling, she managed to be tall. She was still as a statue, her long silky hair of pure white cascading down her back and on to the rocky ground, like a waterfall reflecting the blinding light of a Seraphim descending down from Heaven. There was no distinction of the color white between her tresses and her skin that they appear to be merged together on her head. Her face was indeed beautiful by the standards of humans; large eyes, sharp chin, a small nose, delicate cheeks, and thin lips—it would look as if she never went through the trials she set herself on in the Above-World.

The stoic depression left a mark on her features. Instead of marring it, it only created a mysterious image of beauty. Silent tears of red leaked from the corners of her closed eyes, the slight stiffness of her cheeks made the bitterness clear, and her clasped fingers in front of her waist showing from the end of her thin sleeves emanated dignity.

She was like an art piece in the eyes of the Court surrounding her.

"Oh, how the mighty fell." Viandegroc remarked, crossing his arms as he looked at her pitifully.

"Yes, fell like the Mighty King." Lucifer echoed, resting both his hands on the pommel of his great axe planted to the ornate floors of his castle. "My Greed was my downfall. It would be right that she fell from grace because of her Wrath."

"It was about _time_ she be put back in her place too….." Sally added, lounging on her bed in the most compromising position as always. "All the things the boy had to do in order to rectify what she did….." She took a deep breath, inhaling from the pipe and blowing out the green vapors in a large cloud from her lips and flowing upwards to the above. "It hurts to watch….and it's because of his _Mother_ tooooo….."

"It's a fucking cycle, that's what it is." Viandegroc grouched sharply, "She causes a mess, Brother goes to fix it. Then she causes another out of a certain 'suspicion' she had while he worked. I was about to lose my damn mind when he took too long to notice, even when I don't have one."

"And _I _had to deal with a moping side of him when he would have went loooong ago….." Her purr dragged on, turning a demonic scowl to Bartholomew's direction, her features shifting to the ravenous monster she once was in her living life. "You and your damn self-pitying _self_….."

The young noble looked down, seated on an ornate chair that once belonged in his extravagant home, having no excuses.

"It could not be helped, Milady." William told, turning to face her while he stood ramrod straight on the grass. "His head was in his possessions. How the Master acted is outside of his control."

"We are _not _supposed to corrupt the boy….!" The green vapors surrounded her naked form threateningly, her tone of voice starting to lose its honey-like quality. "His defenses are weakening and our _independence _is responsible for it!"

"It's better than him realizing that he can no longer _die_, whore! It would be the _end _of us once he finds out!" Viandegroc roared, burning green eyes aimed at her direction before he suddenly changed his mood, straightening his back and looking over each of them, "Brother is slowly recovering, our relationship with the Mansion folk is about to mend itself through Meili, and the least we could do is support them both. Arguing over these things are not going to do anything."

Sally sighed at that, shifting her demonic body back to her impossible beauty, lying tiredly on her bed with a sultry moan when it should have been a groan. Everyone slightly shifted in place, contemplating his words and slowly agreeing to them. Mother remained still in the center of it all.

"We are not to interfere again, I assume?" William asked after an unknown amount of time in silence.

With a bitter sneer, Viandegroc had to say the opposite, "Unfortunately, we still have to."

Lucifer growled, "It isn't certain whether the boy could recall himself or not. He might break down on himself once he realizes."

"We can assure ourselves that what he wants is still of his own." Viandegroc informed, "His desire to forgive the maid, to love Meili, and to support the half-elf is genuinely his own wishes and not ours. It's the way he acts that is concerning."

"We need to be steadily separated from him…." Sally noted, heaving suggestively while she bit on her lip. She's frustrated, "The Hero of Pandemonium _must _come back. Seeing him be this pathetic despite everything he's been through is tempting me to create a body of my own when I get the chance just so I can set him straight myself…."

"We shall." Lucifer assured, his natural tone of boast and pride leaving no doubts on the matter. No one else's words are so easy to believe and trust in than his. As corrupt as he was in his living life, he was true to his words and he _never _lied. "The boy _will _be free of us."

William raised his gloved hand, "Then I shall deal with the matter of making the new body while your diligent selves handle the Master's wellbeing."

"We just need the _perfect _shell." Viandegroc noted, contemplating possible choices that could make for a good component. "If we are going to make a new body for Mama, it needs more than human necessities to bring even a semblance of the Queen of Ivory back."

Lucifer watched as Mother's eyes slowly opened, blood-soaked orbs of bright green widening to a shocked look as her white head turned to face Viandegroc, gaping in disbelief. He harrumphed, "It seems the boy's benevolence surprises even his Mother, and _she_ calls herself the woman who birthed the one who slew the Mighty King." He commented with a puff of his chest, looking down haughtily on the bewildered woman.

"Oh, you thought you would be banished to the Nothingness, didn't you?" Viandegroc asked, meeting her eye contact with a calm gaze, "Brother loves you too much for that. You've been with him all his life, after all. But unlike you, we know him _more _than you. How else would you think we knew that before he even mentioned it to any of us?"

Bitterly, Mother pursed her lips and pointed her gaze downwards, struck down by the truth harder than when her entire frame was shattered apart when her son found her in the Demon Village's former location.

"You should be happy, Mama. While we get to keep a body that doesn't even have a brain, you are going to be practically _alive_." His fists clenched in his crossed arms, "You're too valuable to him, and you are no good being a Soul in the wand like us. You're the only one here who knows the Order's magic as much as he does without borrowing his body but now, you need a mind in order to learn _reason _and _self-control_."

"Not that it would be soon, of course…." Sally reminded, blowing out a small puff through her nose.

"The boy handed over your leash to us, to better control you, therefore you will now serve our will." Lucifer informed.

Viandegroc turned a fierce look to the King's direction, "_Brother's _will. She serves _Brother's _will, not ours."

"His will is our will. Our will is his will. There's naught a difference." The giant of a man retorted.

"Wrong." The Marchioness objected coldly, vividly and plainly. Her usual diction was gone, and the demon of Gluttony _stood _and glowered over the presumptuous King with an intensely hateful glare, a gargantuan cloud of green hovering behind her that it could have been mistaken for a grassy mountain. "We are but Souls, shadows of our former lives. Our identity _or _our will does _not _exist anymore, and the boy is _not _our puppet. We are _his _slaves, and his will is _law_. Do you understand, _Your Majesty_?"

Judging stares were turned to the King's direction, waiting for him to make an argument on something undeniable. Even the taciturn Jester was eyeing him funny, finding his claims unacceptable. Spats and arguments were the norm in the Court, always a heated debate in regards to claims and facts despite being equals but when it comes to the boy who killed and imprisoned them in the wand, _no one _insinuates that he is their medium for their desires in the Living World. Emurdol's desires are his and his alone.

Fortunately, being dead humbles even the haughtiest, and the Mighty King is graceful despite his temperament. He inclined his head, "I concede."

"Good enough." Viandegroc turned to face them all, "With that aside, is there anything else to discuss?"

No one said any more. They know what to do with themselves now while making sure nothing goes wrong again: they will continue to serve Emurdol; raise Meili to become self-defined alongside him; keep him sane; keep him happy; rebuild his resistance; support Emilia to the Seat of Power; and find the perfect specimen to serve as Mother's new body.

Being dead and inhabiting an abomination comprising of thousands upon thousands of witchbeast bodies, they can keep up with every impossible task they encounter.

"Very well. We are done here." On cue, Viandegroc, Sally, and the Mighty King disappeared from the Court in an eye blink, sent back to the Living World while Bartholomew, William and Mother remained behind.

The latter returned to her brooding state, closing her eyes and interlocking her delicate fingers in front of her waist, knowing that her reason to be acknowledged as another Soul among Souls is over. She may be given a body at a later date but she will not be called on unless she is wanted. She's going to be put in the background for the majority of her existence, like a pebble on the road. Present but easily ignored. The other Souls have now taken her place in guarding her son's well-being, and they might do better than her, considering that they understood him more than she ever could.

Then soft hands separated her clasped fingers, making her open her eyes in surprise as Bartholomew knelt in front of her and pulled her up to her feet. He isn't tall enough to make her stand fully, but his sudden actions were compelling enough to make her do so. Wearing a grimace, the young noble took slow steps back as he maintained his hold, as if he was leading a child that was learning to walk.

Mother's brow furrowed in question, wondering what is he doing.

And she quickly found out why, when _Life_ suddenly overtook her entire senses. The stone on her feet suddenly turned into _grass_, the stale air of the Underground City warped into _fresh air_, and her skin felt the _heat _of the sun above. Sensations that she thought were long forgotten and could never feel again came flooding back to the senses she suddenly had, and she fell to the earth, overwhelmed.

She was given a taste of what she'll go through once again when her new body is ready, and she could _not _believe that she was so out of touch despite having influenced the Living World for so many years.

And until her mind settles to the sensation of being _Alive_, Bartholomew will remain next to her, guiding her as much as he can once she does. He's been next to useless since the others decided to become assertive after the incident at the Loot House. Even if he takes control of the Flesh Golem, he has nothing to contribute aside from creating highly intuitive zombies, and the vessel's pool of mana is too tiny to create even 10 compared to what he formerly had in his Living Life that could raise _thousands_.

"Would you like this Lowly Servant to keep you both private?" William offered respectfully, kneeling before the noble seated on the grass.

Bartholomew nodded, not pulling his eyes away from the white woman collapsed on the earth, convulsing and shaking from the many forgotten sensations going through her mind, even inhaling loudly and incessantly as if she had discovered how to breathe in order to stay conscious.

"Very well." Rising to his feet, the Valet turned around and faced the mistress of the false world they are currently intruding on. Typical Witch of Greed, the look of ravenous curiosity in her black orbs did not seem to change the last time he had seen them.

Just one step forward and he was already seated in front of the woman in black from across the table, taking his wide-brimmed hat off his hood-covered bald white head that sported many, many slice scars and placing it on his lap.

"I highly compliment the kind of lot you and your companions are. Lesser men would have heaved their stomach contents just for being in my mere presence." Echidna told with an unsettlingly polite smile.

"I'll pass your compliments to them, should they have the patience to even want it." Pure red stared deeply into jet black as he replied with his unchanging tone of pure politeness. "For the time being, allow this Lowly Servant to entertain the Host."

"Shouldn't the Host entertain the guest?"

"We are but intruders, we have no right to be considered guests." He explained, smoothing the irremovable crunch on his hat. "I'm merely here as an appeasing medium between you and the people I serve."

"Even if I were to be mean and go wild on all of you, I would receive no reward even if I win since all of you are really powerful people, either nearly or completely matching the might of a Witch like me. If any of you retaliate, my mana would have been eaten in the process, and I'll die."

Both heads turned to face behind William's back when the sound of something exploding out of the earth erupted in the same place Bartholomew and Mother was. The matron was suddenly stood up, expectedly with a form of help, but Bartholomew cannot take credit for it. Instead, skeletal arms were snaking out of the grass and holding up multiple parts of Mother's body, trying to emulate a position of herself standing. The woman herself was still shaking and hyperventilating, tears of blood flowing endless out of her sockets, the sensation of exerting power and movement still too much to bear on her mind.

Assertively, contradictive to his usual timid self, Bartholomew pulled the tall woman out of her bony constructions' grasps and gently set her back down to the ground, wordlessly demanding that she adjust to her body first before doing anything.

"Though I was highly aware that you are all _not_ alive in essence, it is still interesting to see evidences of it." Echidna commented, thin fingers interlocked below her chin and resting on it as she watched it all happen, "Living beings who enter this domain wouldn't suffer anything like that, just like the young boy you all kept looking after when he came by."

"Allow me to warn you in advance that she will remain here for as long as she wishes until she finally settles to the sensation of being alive. And when she finally settles, she will come back every now and then to stay sharp."

The Witch pouted, "You are all just taking advantage of my generosity when you are all not even paying proper compensation."

"There is no generosity nor respect to begin with, Greed." William kindly pointed out, "We are intruders to a domain, and we do not have the slightest _damn _in regards to what the owner feels about our presence. I hope you understand."

"Aww…." Echidna slumped on her chair, defeated as she held her face despondently. "….considering that _none_ of you are actually asking for knowledge and wisdom from a Witch who holds all knowledge of the world and are just simply walking around enjoying being _alive_ while you're here, I might as well go with the flow."

"I thank you on their behalf, even though they wouldn't. Quite a few of them are now cross with you."

She sighed, looking quite exhausted, "Would you like to meet the other witches? Someone's quite eager to help the poor woman over there."

"Define 'help', would you kindly."

"A certain Witch has the power to heal the wounded with nothing but a strike of her fist, and she's quite passionate when it comes to helping people." She informed, looking pointedly at Mother, "Her name is Minerva, the Witch of Wrath, and she's been yelling in my ear nonstop since she arrived. I'm very certain she can help her settle to her body in an instant."

"_Wrath_, you say…." Though his face remained frozen in its neutral visage, his gesture of holding his chin while looking into space indicated a cloud of interest and inquiry. "I suppose that can be done."

A large close-lip smile spread across Echidna's lips, exhuming a different mood compared to earlier, and the _curiosity _in her eyes practically burned. Her entire form glowed a blinding white light, and suddenly, an extreme gust of wind blew from her location, blowing back the chair she once occupied, the table, the cups and teapot, and William himself before he fluidly rolled back to his feet.

A woman's shouting from above made him look up, and he watched a white missile fly at ballistic speeds towards Mother and Bartholomew's location like a falling star. The instinct of worry overtook him before his mind caught up to the fact that he was already beside Mother. Once his mind remembered what the Witch told him, the white missile already crashed to the earth, right on Mother's collapsed body.

Tenaciously, he suffered the shockwave of the impact and the cloud of dirt that came with it like a stone wall, maintaining his posture despite falling a few inches down from the newly created crater. Bartholomew didn't fare so well, blown away and his momentum left him rolling on the ground a few meters back. Having zero combat experience, he was incapable of rolling back to his feet like William could.

The latter didn't move to help the noble up, taking the time to process what he's seeing: pink _hearts _popping into existence like bubbles and disappearing like so a second after.

There was another woman stood over Mother, significantly shorter, slimmer, and younger-looking that she would have not seen her 19th winter yet, and she had her fist planted on the Osteomancer's cheek.

"Alive or not! I will not tolerate anyone's suffering in my sights!" The girl stood upright, clenching her fists raised at shoulder level and fierily shouting to the sky with a tear-filled voice, "I hate it! I _hate_ that you would suffer just for being alive again! I _hate _that you all have died painfully before I saved you! I _hate_ that I wasn't there at the time! I _hate_ it! _Hate it! Hate it! Hate it! Hate it! Hate it! Hate it! I hate it all! Why must everything be so full of suffering!?_"

William finally had the time to level with this _passionate _girl. She was impressively cute and had a lovable face, even if tinged red with rage and tears. Pale-skinned, blue-eyed and golden-haired, tied in a high-ponytail, she donned a white overcoat over a blue minidress, and her large bosom is poking through an opening from an unbuttoned part of her coat. A rather profound type of beauty compared to Echidna, who carries a mysterious kind of allure.

"May this Lowly Servant know your name, dear Ma'am?"

Tear-soaked eyes turned to face him, "My name is Minverva, the Witch of Wrath, and I loathe the entire world's suffering and violence that led to her death!" She reared her fist back and struck him cleanly in the cheek. He recoiled from the impact because of her _monstrous _strength but he fluidly spun along the momentum and maintained an upright form before sliding to a stop, his robes flying to catch up to his movements before hanging to a stop. "Healed or not, I will not accept even scars of anyone's past pain! Everyone should be unblemished and beautiful!"

He ran his leather-covered fingers across his bald head as he put down his hood, and he felt a smooth surface. She wiped out his scars with the power behind her rejuvenating strikes.

"A thank you is in order it would seem—"

"No!" Minerva cut him off, "Do not thank me! I just hate suffering! That's it! You don't have to thank me for doing something about it! Now you do not have the slightest injury on you, not even an ant bite! That is a Witch's Promise, you hear!?"

"Is that so?" He suddenly appeared in front of the Witch of Wrath, taking both her clenched fists into his grasp and bringing them close to look at them. They looked so clean, so delicate, so virgin—as if they have not seen work for all her life. "The Master would like you _very _easily if he ever meets you."

"Who?"

The sound of the earth cracking emanated from behind her. Her head turned to look at the source of the sound so fast she could have snapped her neck, her high-ponytail unable to catch up in time.

"Her son." He answered, turning to look as well.

Mother, having been punched to stability by Minerva, was no longer shaking or hyperventilating. Even her impossibly green eyes are seeing clarity, no longer glazed over from the overwhelming sensations going through her mind. She is now rising up to her feet, assisted by the skeletal hands shooting out of the grass and pushing her back and rear. Her left hand gripped on a clenched fist jutting from the ground to lift herself up, accompanied by another skeletal grasp on her right armpit to stabilize her posture. She put her feet under her, and she let out a low groan in exertion, her upper body teetering with her arms spread to maintain balance while the skeletal appendages held her by the waist.

Stood at a full height, she can now be forehead to forehead with William and had her gaze pointed downwards to face the short Witch, who matched Bartholomew in stature as well, who stepped up to see the blonde stranger.

Minerva met the woman's questioning gaze squarely and neutrally, crossing her arms under her large bosom and asked, "Why the stare?"

More arms appeared from the ground and held Mother's shoulders as she tried to lean downwards, to have a better look at the Witch, and her frown grew deeper in question, as if she was looking at someone she thought she had met once.

Lips, tongue, larynx, and lungs worked in preparation, and came from her mouth a heavily-accented inquiry that signified the first word she ever uttered outside the Court:

"Siiiiiiister…..?"

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Sloppy, Miss Meili. You missed the underside of the table, the top of the shelf, and the corners. In fact, start all over again. Give everything a full makeover of cleanliness that even Lord Roswaal can eat from the floor."

"Yes, Sister Ram." Meili threw the rag to the bucket full of water, landing on the edge before she grabbed the feather duster and moved to work the first of the tasks told of her, kneeling down and waved the cleaning implement against the underside of the guest quarter's table. Afterwards, she'll sweep the floors, followed by a mopping, and then a full hands-on wiping on every crook and crevice of the room. And she's also given a time limit of an hour too.

Once she finishes all of it, this guest room will be left squeaky clean like what Ram wanted and she can proceed to the next room, with 18 more to go, and this is only the first floor.

Given what had happened since three days ago, only the immature could not see that the elder sister loathed their young guest greatly, and it shows with a scowl or a cutting glare on her cute face behind her Master's back. She and the object of her spite being in the same room for more than an hour without threats being thrown around shouldn't be possible.

In fact, looking at the little girl's face is the last thing she wants when she started the day. Instead, it went differently. Rather than having a moment of quiet and stability, Meili suddenly approached her and her little sister as they were hanging up laundry, saying a set of words she didn't even expect hear.

"Give me something to do." The question was directly aimed at Ram, looking firmly on her crimson eyes that it almost looked like she didn't even notice Rem was there beside her, looking in confusion. "A chore or some sort of labor, I want to occupy myself."

When pressed why, the answer was immediate, "Because there's nothing for me to do."

Her attitude and demeanor was a far cry from the domineering and sweetly malicious brat she once was. Her olive green eyes were dim, glazed over, her usual smile was nowhere to be seen, and her words weren't dragged at the end like she usually would, only curt and straight to the point. She even declined breakfast when she was approached at the bone tree.

She clearly knows it had something to do with what she learned last night, the reasons of Rem's actions. It wasn't certain what motivation the girl had to _ask _for work from the person who hates her, whether to atone for her behavior or to keep her mind off of the guilt, but Ram saw only an opportunity. An opportunity to hit back in a way only a Maid can do.

And that is extremely high-standard maid work. Wearing the same maid outfit of a smaller size to fit Meili's form, Ram practically drove her like a slave. Made to work in a performance level that's even above Rem's usual diligence, the impromptu maid's body is worked over to the limit that a child of her age could not reasonably withstand like any other human child.

Ram had been purposely impeding her progress: knocking over a vase, spilling muck on previously-cleaned floors, and changing her rules every five minutes. A chance to land injury on Meili, she took it with the full subtlety only a good maid is capable of. Tripping her to the shard-covered floors while she was lifting something heavy, purposely bumping her against the wall whenever she felt like 'changing locations', or even had her mess up something she cleaned up in order to do it again according to her dictations.

Despite all this, Meili was silent. She didn't whine. She didn't weep. She didn't scowl. She didn't even pause to take a breath. Any injury she took, it was completely unnoticed or ignored. They didn't even _bleed._ The little girl was moving like a machine, functioning according to the orders given to her with the expected performance uncannily matched. Her movements even implied that there was experience behind them.

When asked how she learned domestic work, the answer was straightforward and to the point as always. "I worked undercover as a maid in a noble's mansion once. It took a whole year before the kill-strike was ordered."

When asked how she killed her target, the answer matched what she expected, "I poisoned his tea."

When lunch came, that was when a 'break' was taken. It mainly consists of Ram ordering Meili to make some tea for her. Every little misstep the former made, the little girl is forced to start from the very beginning, even had her put back the herbs into their containers and back to their places in the shelf before starting again. It only took Ram's thirst to make her declare Meili's 21st iteration 'acceptable'. While she drank her tea, Meili is made to clean up the kitchen, including every meat and vegetable to be meticulously rinsed once again.

Though it is dulled by Meili's complying doormat attitude, Ram found satisfaction nonetheless.

But she failed to catch on to the fact that the impromptu maid's emotions were locked away, preventing any anger or bitterness from coming to the surface. Her body had been worked over extensively before, but the strain is coursing through her despite its improvements from prior surgeries. Emotion Suppression made her go through everything despite it, rationalizing that it was natural considering what must be done.

The Souls have been getting _very _eager at the prospect of Meili seeing her father again, but there are still those who spited the maid after the hearing last night. Both positive and negative receptions melding together are dangerous to her wellbeing, and seeing Rem again is enough to trigger them, so she locked her heart away to protect herself. And her heartless self immediately rationalized that if her father was to stay here, there will more than a handful of drawbacks to have even one member of the mansion bearing animosity towards her. The best solution is either tolerance or acceptance, and her mind, uncaring of trivialities, decided that she _must_ satisfy Ram's desire for retribution.

She predicted that the elder sister will not be merciful and justified that it will be worth it, to better benefit herself and her father in the long run.

Breaking out of Emotion Suppression will be lethal, as some Souls have likely grown to spite Ram for her slave-driving and pass their rage onto Meili, which will then kill her. She will have to wait until her father comes, and then have him silence their demands once he does.

"Miss Meili."

Dull olive green eyes turned to face Ram as she called her name. "Yes, Sister Ram?"

"Ram wants to know the actual answer. There is clearly more to this than just demanding to be occupied. _Why are you doing this_?"

A pause, then one eye blink, and the answer afterwards, something that hasn't happened before, "Because it wasn't fair."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

It was at the time of the evening that Rem was about to do her final rounds around the Mansion when her nose suddenly picked up that scent again. That rubbery, metallic, ashen, and smoky scent. Maid duties are completely sent to the back of her mind, the center of her focus seeking out the source of this smell.

Flail drawn out, the sound of rustling chains echoing in the dark silence, she took off towards the direction the scent was strongest. She was at the 2nd floor, and the scent seemed to be coming from the 1st. The smell was getting stronger—she's getting near.

There was a crack open on one of the doors of the guest quarters, and it was coming from there. Slamming her shoulder on the portal, sending it practically flying to the wall beside it, she saw a figure seated on the bed, and she—

Her arm was suddenly twisted around her back, suddenly having lost her grip on her weapon, and she was suddenly kneeling to the floor. She looked up to the person grappling her, and she saw a cat's mask staring back at her. "Calm down."

With a free hand, he pointed a leather-covered finger to the bed. She turned to look, and resistance left her body entirely.

"….Ser Emurdol….."

Acknowledging the loosening of her muscles under his grasp, Viandegroc released her arm and helped the maid up to her feet. Mother, having been the one who snatched her flail without her noticing, neatly rolled the chains in a loop before handing it back to her.

A leather hand suddenly held Rem's shoulder, and she turned to face the humanoid Flesh Golem that faced the door. "We will keep you both private." Releasing her shoulder, he glided towards the opening, followed behind by the four-armed skeleton, who have grown a head and sported more than a thousand cracks on its ivory frame.

As the door was closed silently, she was suddenly put back in the oppressive atmosphere that matched the one she entered when she entered the guest quarter with Meili inside. Biting her lip, her head lowered, she put away her flail and took in the form of the person she made suffer.

"You…you came back, Ser Emurdol…."

He was different compared to the last time she saw him, when he had been lying on a bed, appearing to be breathless and dead by rights. He sat on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees while his hands, both skeletal and flesh, were interlocked together. Compared to the last time when she thought scars seemed to disappear on his flesh, this time he _had _scars. There were scratch lines on his left arms, as if they were caused by a wild beast. There was a spot of healed flesh on the side of his neck. There was a gash that seemed to stretch from his left collarbone to the right side of his waist, having been inflicted on him not too long ago. The scar on the front of neck…..

….it is still there. A reminder of her _sin_.

He wore an attire that isn't a robe anymore. It was an open vest of smooth black leather, baring his arms, his gaunt scarred chest and his toned abdomen, prominently pale against the light of the moon shining through the window behind him. Now that he isn't connected to his Mother's skeleton, he actually wore dark brown leather trousers that seemed slightly too large for him. At each end of the cuffs of his pants, however, showed an appendage that wasn't natural for humans. An ivory _spike_.

**"I've heard from Meili…." **The eldritch voice, comprising of the sounds of steel, flesh, and bones meshing together impossibly to form syllables, arrived once more. The last time she heard it, she was being berated for her stupidity, for her continued inadequacy as a Demon. **"….your reasons…..the reason why you did what you did…."**

This time, however, instead of the voice being fiery and coated in rage, it was neutral and open. Diplomatic, expressing a desire to be answered with the proper respects in mind. **"But I want to hear it….straight from you. I want to hear the whole truth from you."**

Though he was motionless as a statue, the voice in her head told her all the things she needed to know how much he _really _needed to hear her explain.

She was resigned, so she agreed. "May Rem have a chair to sit on first?" She asked politely, but the professional persona of her voice faltered in the middle of it.

**"You don't need my permission."** He told, motionless still.

Nodding, she picked up a chair close to the door and gently placed it in front of Emurdol, not the slightest sound made when it touched the carpet-covered floors before she sat down primly.

Gulping, crumpling her skirt in her hands, she tried to look into his eyes but found it impossible to do. His face was shrouded by a curtain of white, hiding his every expression. It wasn't clear whether he was angry or calm. "Rem will start now….if you would allow….?"

**"You _don't_ need my permission."**

Momentarily berating herself for failing to remember, she finally explained herself. She did her best to rephrase everything she had told to Meili, making sure she spared no details. He deserved to know everything, including her origins. Compared to his daughter, his body was mobile, not remaining in his frozen placement. Throughout her explanation, he separated his hands and clenched them atop his lap. Slowly, he brought them up to his head, clawing them into his scalp.

When she reached the end of her explanation, the only sound present was the sharp intakes of breath from Emurdol and the rattling of the bones of his right hand. He put them down, stood up, his fists shaking beside him, and he approached her, his stilted feet lightly thudding against the floors.

She stiffened, closed her eyes, bowing her head and preparing for the punishing blow to land, deserving every last bit of it.

There was the sound of a strike that cracked in the room. Only, she didn't suffer any blow. Her head had no bruise nor cut nor mark.

Then there was another strike, and it was happening right behind her. Her head quickly swiveled around to look, and she found Emurdol placing his hands against the wall and _slamming _his forehead against the surface, splattering it with his blood and _cracking _the mortar.

"Ser Emurdol, what are you doing!? Stop!" She bolted up from her chair and went to stop him. He smashed his head against the wall for the fourth time, an even bigger splatter of red coating the impact spot before she pulled him away from it and he fell on his rear, his gritted teeth visible through a gap from the curtain of white locks. She hovered a hand over his bleeding forehead, missing bits of flesh being restored under the energy of her healing magic, casting a glow of light blue in the dimly lit room. "Ser….why did you do that?"

**"I was unfair…I was unfair." **His breath shook, and the emotions of rage and self-hatred was thick on every syllable. **"I was blind….I was so blind….how could I….fuck….."**

He was extremely deluded. He was so hung on to the continued belief that the Order of the Serpent will never be accepted despite his achievements that he never took the time to understand her motives. She was a _victim_, her mentality was scarred and warped from childhood trauma. The Taint on his person belonged to the evil men that was the Witch Cult. There was no explanation to how it's there, except it just arrived out of nowhere. She thought he was one of them. And his attitude towards her because of _his _misgivings made it all worse. She had every reason to hold her spite over him.

If only they have just talked—if only he have been patient to her, just as he had been before in Pandemonium, all this could have been avoided.

This world is _not _Pandemonium. It _never_ knew his kind. The patterns of this world do _not _apply to what he's used to.

How could he forget that?

**"How could you know….? How could you possibly know? The Order doesn't even exist here…..!"**

"Ser Emurdol….?" Rem was at a loss, wondering why he was acting like this.

He grabbed his own face with his left hand, crumpling it, shaking under the pressure of his own grip, and slammed it down to the floor. If he had his voice, he would have screamed. A scream of defeat.

And he slumped, having lost all of his strength. He would have collapsed to the floor, but Rem held him up, pulling him to his feet and leading him to the bed so he could properly lie down. Instead of doing that, he kept himself seated, supporting himself with his hands behind him.

He took long breaths, as if to calm down. Rem rubbed his back, hoping to be of some help with it despite not knowing what's wrong, and she remained by his side until he became physically inaudible, turning his head to face her, revealing a bleeding left eye that was dimly glowing green under the shadow of his brow.

**"I never spoken to you properly, Rem…I never took the time to know you better. I thought all this time you were just another idiot who would not even put aside her misgivings purely for the fact that I was a Necromagus…." **His gaze went downwards, **"...I was wrong….I should have been patient…because I didn't….all that _bullshit _happened. I am to blame…"**

"N-no!" Rem quickly objected, "No! Rem was in the wrong! The fault is all mine….I should have trusted you…just like Rem should have back in that forest. You told me to go back to the village, and you had many chances to take my life….and you never did….you were only trying to help…."

"Tsk." Audibly, Emurdol clicked his tongue, shaking his head, his silver hair swishing in waves. **"Then we're both idiots. Stupid, blind, mud-brained idiots. We didn't take the time to talk, to understand each other, and it blew up in our faces at the worst of times." **There was no irony in that statement.

"No. Because Rem was so flawed and useless, the blame should be all on—"

**"_Shut up_, Rem." **She flinched from the force of the words alone, even if they merely happened inside her head. **"You blame yourself. I blame myself. It's both our fault no matter how you see it. Settle to that if you are so adamant about taking the entire brunt of the sin."**

Rem had no reply, biting her lip and looking down. Emurdol leaned slightly back, his upper body diagonally angled with his arms behind him to hold him up, his head hanging downwards and his white locks spilling over.

The pair sat on the edge of the bed quietly, taking in the silence as a moment to catch their breath and calm themselves down. Emurdol was beginning to entertain the thought of staying here, and it's proving to be a safer prospect more than anything. Whatever problem that ever existed since being in this world, it's right here within reach in the Mansion. He can deal with it whenever he can.

"Forgive me, Ser Emurdol."

Just when he was about to stand up and exchange peace with her, Rem suddenly bowed to him and apologized.

Without turning his head, his face still shrouded in the silver curtain, his skeletal hand moved to gently lift her chin up. **"There is nothing to apologize for, Rem." **There actually wasn't. The both of them were in the wrong, anyway. They have individually suffered for each of their errors, so it was fair. **"So do not bow like that. It is wasted on me."**

"It is not that…" She retorted softly, twiddling her fingers atop her lap, unable to meet where his eyes should be.

Emurdol turned his head to face her, straightening his posture and asked, **"What's wrong? Hm? What's clouding your mind?"**

"….remember when I said that Dear Sister was a powerful Demon before she lost her horn? Rem is a joke compared to her."

Behind the shade of silver, a scowl arrived on his face.

"Rem is powerless, talentless, and a reject of the Demon Race. That is why Rem can never match Dear Sister. So slow-footed compared to her that I could think of any way to catch up beyond running faster."

Rem covered her face with one hand.

"Dear Sister did everything better. She never blundered or wavered. She was always right about everything. If it had been her….she could have….."

She lowered her hand and faced him. She didn't cry, but resignation and self-loathing coated her orbs of light blue like a fog.

"Rem was always Dear Sister's substitute, always been inferior. _Always. _A good-for-_nothing_ existence. Rem can never do anything better like she could."

Now, tears were welling up in her eyes, visible and sparkling under the slight glow of the Dragon's Eye peeking in the room through the window.

"Why is Rem the only one with a horn? Why did Dear Sister not keep her horn? Why was she born with only one horn? Why….why were we twins to begin with?"

And a tear rolled down her cheek. Emurdol kept his silence, listening to every word. She hastily wiped it off and regained her composure.

"I…I am sorry. Such strange things came out of my mouth…please forget them. I have never said such things to anyone before….."

Resting on his leather-covered lap of durable bone, his skeleton hand clenched tightly, creating cracking sounds in the stiff silence of the room. His other hand of living flesh moved to brush aside his locks, sweeping them back to let them hang over his shoulder blades, revealing his wrinkled features of pale white that resemble the dead.

His eyes regained their glow, and they expressed a light of admonishing disappointment.

**"Rem."**

"Yes?" She faced him again.

**"I understand knowing one's limits….but why do you put yourself in the standards of someone you _know _you can't reach, and yet _continue_ to abide by it?"**

She blinked, and she looked down once again, slowly getting the words out, "Because….it's obvious. Because Rem can never be greater than Dear Sister."

**"You didn't answer my question, Rem." **He quickly told, his scowl becoming even more pronounced thanks to the creases on his face. **"Why do you say you are worthless compared to your much incompetent sister?"**

"N-no! You're wrong! Her true self is so much stronger! If you had seen it for yourself, you wouldn't have—"

**_"Stop._ Just _stop."_** A firm command resounded in her head, and Emurdol frowned even deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. **"I believe you with no hint of doubt that Ram is the strongest Demon, but that was a time when she _still_ had her horn. She doesn't have one _anymore_. Whoever she was that day, I don't know her any better than the secondhand information I receive and from my personal experience."**

The facts are clear after all the days he's spent in this mansion interacting or looking at them from a distance. The hint of who was the better maid is clear to anyone with a pair of eyes.

**"You attacked me when that scent you speak of got even worse on my person. You were the one to remain suspicious of me. You were the one who wore my patience down and forced me to leave. You made me go out of my way to sacrifice much of myself just for the sake of saving someone I hated_...again."_**

The trend never ends. This habit of his is like a parasite, especially back in Pandemonium, and yet he never does anything to stop it. He wonders why and the answer never comes to him.

"I know. Rem knows that very well. Dear Sister would have done—"

**"_Be silent_, I'm not done talking." **He snapped, lightly smacking her forehead with the back of his skeletal fingers. She squeaked from the blow, rubbing it. Even if the force behind them is like a tap, it would still hurt in a vulnerable state of mind. **"Ram is not responsible for all those things. _You _are. You made me go through hell. Your sister could barely hope to do so. You chased me down all the way to the village and aimed your hostility my way, Ram didn't. Do you understand what all that _means_?"**

"N-no…not at all. Rem is always insufficient, that's why I can never—"

His skeletal finger poked her forehead, silencing her again, and he continued in that firm tone, **"It means that was _you_, Rem. You did them _not_ as a proxy of what Ram would have done, you did them of your _own _accord, as a person with a mind and freewill. Own up to the things you did. You did them as the Demon named Rem, the Little Sister of Ram."**

He lowered his finger down, taking ahold of her shoulder very gently, and he peered deeply into her eyes.

**"I did _not_ run back to the forest and lose my throat to monsters just to save a _skeleton _who would act on the behalf of the one who made it. I put myself at risk to save _Rem_, the _person_ I hated." **He lowered his hand, **"Accept that you are yourself, and Ram is nothing compared to you."**

Rem was silent as she took in his words, and judging from the impression of conflict in her eyes, it was not easy to soak them into her mind.

**"Stop caring if she has a horn or not. You're the only one who does. She already accepted herself the way she is, and I believe she wanted you to do the same. You are only wasting time and energy acting as her replacement. She has flaws and you have your own. And _you _made me do everything I can to _save your life_ more than a few times."**

"….Dear Sister wouldn't have done the same."

She's still comparing herself to someone else. It's so pitiful and pathetic it hurts to hear.

**"Yes, she would not have. But _you_ made the errors that led to all the suffering we went through. That makes it very clear you are _not_ your sister or her substitute. You are just another living being that makes mistakes like everybody else."**

He stood up from the bed, his stilted feet making light thuds on the carpet as he turned to face her and take both her hands into his own. And the ice in his voice softened significantly, carrying noticeable tinges of warmth.

**"Because of _your _mistakes, I learned the error of my ways and changed my viewpoint for the better in this world."** A shocked look crossed Rem's face as she looked up to meet his gaze that had softened from its sternness.

Yes. Because of Rem, he realized that he _needed _to separate himself from Mother for good. The toxin she carried with him ever since Pandemonium must be purged. It all led him to the realization that this world is _not _like his old one. He will be just another existence amongst the rest, unique and self-defined.

**"If it weren't for you, I never would have saved those children from their curses and Meili from the horrid fate that awaited her."**

"Rem…." There was hesitation in her voice, as if she could not accept such things from him, "…Rem has always been Dear Sister's replacement."

**"You are no one's replacement and there is _nothing_ you can do to change my mind. I value you exactly the same way I would to everyone I meet: _just_ another mortal." **Whether he noticed it himself or not, there was a slight curl of a smile on the edge of his lips. **"Your Master once said to me that you cover for what Ram cannot do. That alone was the most promising thing I ever knew about you, a _good _thing. Abandon that toxic mindset of yours while continuing to do what a hornless Ram could not do. It's only right for sisters whose love for each other runs so deep that one would face the Shade for the sake of the other. Two Demons as One, as I and Mother once was. That's what being family _is._"**

"….ah…"

**"You cannot truly substitute for Ram, and no one can replace you as well, Rem. _No one_ can. My people believed in self-identity, and knowing oneself is the obligation of every living being, human or not. It's time to look at what's in front of you. Act according to yourself, perform according to your _own_ standards, and _accept _that it is all you can ever do. _No one _can match Ram. No one can match _you_, not even your sister. You are _valuable _to others**,** Rem. Do you realize just how she and your Master reacted when they thought you were gone forever because of what my Mother did?"**

The significance of her life was enough to force that dumb idiot Viandegroc to bring the Shade out to the Living World and back when the repercussions blew up in his face.

He felt her stiffen when he asked that, "….still…"

"**I have decided to stay in this mansion and support Emilia to the Seat of Power. And I _don't _want to see any skeletons walking around except my own. I intend to form bonds with everyone here, but I want to understand _you_ more. I do not refer to the one that substitutes for Ram, because I can face your sister myself. I refer to Rem. The Rem who pushed me to the breaking point of my suffering. The same person I forgave and have wronged."**

"…..."

**"I do not know what will happen to us in the coming days, weeks, months and years, and I don't care. Whether you and I will hate each other again, become friends that can exchange trust and shake hands without the need of a prompt, or even fall in love with the other, I will accept any of it, so long as you have asserted yourself in those days as no one but Rem and Rem alone. That is all I ask for."**

Rem held a conflicted look, tightening her grasp on his hands.

"Rem….is weak…and feeble. I might fall again, and you might end up having to come and save me again, and even loss another part of yourself. It might happen again and again, and you will lose so much more after that….."

**"When that time comes, I will pull you up just as I have done so many times before. And once I do, I will make sure you will never fall again so you can stand by my or anyone's side from now on." **He placed his skeleton hand on her shoulder and his living hand on her cheek. To his slight surprise, she _didn't_ flinch from the cold of his flesh. **"And until that day comes, stand side by side with the ones who depend on me and support each other. My daughter would love to have you in her life."**

When one decides to take every burden onto their own shoulders, they lose sight of what they want most and become stranded in their path to life. He may not be one to say but he knows himself and his limits. The Order of the Serpent may live like everything depends on them despite being against the entire world, but they understand that even the little things they do carry the greatest significance that only the Dragon can understand, so it is up to the ones who will take their place to finish the job.

**"It is presumptuous for my kind to say this but for all its worth, I am _strong_. I can deal with the troubles you and Meili will deliver. So, chin up, stand straight and look forward." **He pulled her up to her feet and held both her shoulders, smiling freely. The warmest smile he had ever given to anyone besides his daughter.** "I went to the mountain where the Demon Village once stood, the place of your and Ram's birth. Though they are not many, there have been a handful of Souls who remained in the Living Realm. And do you know what they thought of you the last time you visited them?"**

She didn't ask, only awaiting him to continue with bated breath.

**"They're _proud of you_. The little one they once thought to be a failure of the Clan has grown into an exceptional Demon that proved their misgivings wrong." **She gasped at that, disbelief clouding her every expression. The eldritch voice in her head has grown a lot warmer than it was, so much that its horrifying quality became nonexistent.

**"I have sent them to their rightful rest, and now, I look forward to the times that I find out why they are wrong about you. Whether sooner or later, I have all the time in the world to wait."**

Under the glow of the Dragon's Eye, he watched with great scrutiny over the way her face began lightening. Brightening. Lifting. Into a smile. It was beautiful, the sight itself could overpower the light of the flames created by the Fire Golem.

"….Rem….Rem will make sure you will be surprised, Ser Emurdol."

He nodded.

She laughed, and amidst the laughter, her tears began to flow freely from the corner of her eyes. They don't seem to stop, endlessly pouring, but her laughter that seemed to have uplifted his spirit likewise didn't end.

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her close to his chest, feeling that the future ahead of him is going to be a lot brighter than he is used to, but he'll laugh at the face of it, because he will not hide his eyes from it ever again.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Strong sensations were breaking through the Emotion Suppression and rationality deduced that this was because of a _genuine _emotion of excitement, untainted by the influence of Souls, surfacing inside Meili's frozen heart. It was melting the ice encasing it.

She smelled the scent. The same one that's ever present whenever she's going through torture. The very same one that surrounded her entire body whenever she's being spoiled with sweet cuddles and kisses.

Contradicting her calculative mindset that's slowly eroding, her movements were jittery, fast-paced, moving in a language that implied that she was not having any patience left in her. Her nose sniffed the air incessantly, tracking down that scent the best she can, her bare feet moving in practical blurs she moved from one place to another, following the trail that had suddenly arrived out of nowhere.

Her Link told her that he's _very _close. _Inside the building_. He's somewhere in the second floor. She didn't spare any door she sees from being opened, taking no chances. He's got to be here somewhere, and she will never suffer another second without him by her side.

The Emotion Suppression is dying, barely little of it left, and her surfacing anxiety is spiking to absurd limits. Her stoic mien melted to that of desperation, olive green eyes glowing brightly like never before, casting a glow on whatever she was staring at and her breathing coming in and out sharply that the sound itself echoed out into the silent hallways of the night.

Then she saw a tall figure ahead, the sound of a clicking tongue inside the back of a throat echoing back to her location. Despite the evening's quiet atmosphere, no normal human would have been able to hear that. But Meili's hearing is above-average, and she could hear it like it was in front of her, amplified by this silence.

Before she realized, her bare feet were moving towards the source of the sound. At first a light walk, then it turned to a trot. Then it became a jog, and it immediately turned into a sprint, a speed so quick that she could outrun a Ground Dragon when her night vision allowed her to recognize the figure in front of her.

Tall. Scarred. Pale. Standing in stilted feet. Looking at her as if she was the most important thing in his life. There was no mistaking it. It is him.

The Emotion Suppression shattered apart, letting her true emotions run loose, and her voice finally had the freedom to let it out.

"PAPA!" Her shrill cry echoed throughout the entire 2nd floor.

Jumping straight into his open arms, smacking solidly against his chest that he had to take a couple steps back just to maintain his balance on his stilted feet, she wrapped her legs around his chest and her arms around his neck so tightly that it was highly possible that she could suffocate him with her surgically-improved body strength.

**"An'k."** That beautiful voice she missed so much uttered the nickname he had for her, literally meaning 'beloved child' in his home's native language, and she squeezed him even tighter in response. His arms wrapped themselves around her small form, reciprocating her affections by a thousandfold. **"I missed you so much."**

Meili said nothing, still trying to crush his entire upper body and neck, and red tears of elation flowed freely from her eyes. He was _warm_. He was passing his luscious mana to her. He was literally crushing her against his chest. These sensations of unique fatherly love made her realize just how much effort she expended in his mansion was all _worth it_.

The embrace was almost nigh-endless, lasting for practically a whole eternity before they parted only at the chest, numerous aches lingering on her body but she didn't care. His arms encircled around her rear to hold her up, her legs hanging on either side of his chest, she placed both hands on either side of his cheeks and she said in a whisper, "I missed you too, Papa."

And she kissed him squarely on the lips. Some families share this sort of intimacy, some don't, but the Order of the Serpent carry no bounds, and Meili took to their standards very quickly. Aside from the warmth and affection, she was also draining his mana from shared contact in one of the most sensitive places of the human body, tasting the extremely addicting and transcendently delicious energies that he always had ready inside his core. Aside from removing the aches on her back, it stimulated her mana pool, causing it to swirl rapidly like a violent twister, and they seeped out of her form when they can no longer be contained, causing the dimly lit area around them in the hallway to be illuminated in a ghostly glow of a light green.

20 seconds into the kiss, she parted their lips with a pop and bumped their heads together, the mana exhuming out of her body now halting, gazing deeply into each other's green-colored eyes that glowed brightly in love for the other, seeing into the beautiful emerald depths that existed in them.

Moments more pass in their embrace, and Meili finally decided to ask, "Did you talk to Blue Maidyyyy?

**"I have."**

"Did you two kiss and makeuuuuup?"

**"We have forgiven each other. Her heart is healed and my spirit is lifted. I'm going to stay here with you from now on, Meili."**

The news alone were enough to put a bright smile on Meili's face, going for another crushing hug again. "Yaaaay…." She exclaimed in a hissy whisper next to his ear, the euphoria making it too much for her mind to be in a jubilant mood. "Let's go to sleep together, Papaaaa. I haven't slept since laaaaast night."

**"I'd love to."** He set her down to the ground, his left hand interlocking fingers with her brown hand as he led her to forward, the glove stuffed inside her belt bag. This hand of hers could not feel the world or the living beings inhabiting it for all its worth. But her father existed in that void. She could _feel _every fabric of his being every time she touched any part of his flesh. It was a comforting solace that ever made her whole as a human born to a second life. **"But there is something I'd like you to do first. Just for a moment."**

"Okaay!" Arms swinging widely in-between them, they walked inwards to the dim hallway. For some reason, the hallway windows' curtains were drawn close, sending the passage into further darkness, leaving nothing to be seen for anyone without night vision.

Meili saw Uncle and Grandma standing on either side of the bathroom double doors, still as statues until they turned to face the father-daughter pair once they were as close as a meter. "It is nice to see you two together again…." Commented a feminine voice glazed in sweet honey.

It was actually Auntie Sally that's possessing the shell, Meili noticed, not Uncle. She couldn't see the pipe anywhere and it threw her off. "Hi, Auntiee."

"Hello, Sweetheart. It has been a while…." The kitty mask bobbed once in a greeting nod before she moved to open one side of the bathroom doors. "In you both go, and be careful not to destroy anything."

Her eyebrow quirked in question, wondering what's about to happen. Even her Link isn't telling her anything. Passing through the doorway and into the dressing room, the lamps turning on as they noticed their presence, she suddenly found a large ivory jug permeating the smell of the same bitter liquid that could heal injuries resting on the corner.

Their hands separated, her eyes fixated on the giant container that towered over her, she asked, "Papaaa…? What's going ooo…n?"

He already removed his vest, revealing his heavily-scarred body of pure white and is now removing his pants, revealing the complex machinery of bone and ivory that made up the entirety of his legs. Like an automaton's frame without covering, the internal parts within are visible through the gaps, especially around the knee joints, and his stilted feet morphed like clockwork, shifting neatly into a pair of three-toed feet that allowed stability on smooth surfaces.

"Woooow…"

**"Mother's gift." **He simply mentioned before he opened the door to the large bath. **"Come on. You can either be with or without your clothes."**

She looked down on herself, wearing the same black dress that she wore since yesterday before lifting her gaze up and following after him, still unsure what's going on. Her bare feet stepping on the dry tiles of the bath, creating a light tap in each step, she asked again, "Papa, why are we heeeere?"

Emurdol stepped down into the wide, empty tub, a loud clack of bone meeting solid tiles upon his landing before he stood at the center and faced her. With a resigned look on his face, the glow of his eyes becoming dull as they stared into space, and spreading his arms to the side, there was only a single command coursing through her head, emotionless and empty but carrying the slightest hint of resolve in each syllable. The meaning behind it is clear through her Link.

**"You wanted this for so long, Meili. Now's the time for you to have it."**

She gasped, her eyes widening.

With pride and love in his eyes, he submitted himself to his fate. In accordance to their Contract, his _Life_ is now in her hands. **"Release your restraints and have your way with me."**

…..

…...

…...…...

She smiled. A smile so sweet that only a daughter that received nothing but unconditional and endless love from her father could ever evoke such a pure expression, and she never let it leave her face for as long as she was here with him.

Unstrapping her belt bag and throwing it as far as the wall close to the door, then pulling her dress over her head, leaving her white body bare to the air with only her undergarments protecting the last of her modesty, before she bundled it into a ball and discarded it as far away as possible.

Maintaining that very sweet smile, she stepped down into the empty pool, level with her father, and she raised her brown hand at neck level. It morphed, the skin molding like clay and the bones inside cracking in the process of being reshaped. Her fingers now reshaped, smooth and progressively thinning towards the digits ending in serrated talons, and her hand covered in barbs pointing forwards, she whispered a tiny little hiss that overflowed with all her burning feelings for him, echoing in the silent space of the bathroom.

"I love you, Papa."

A blur of movement and her hand pierced through his abdomen, through the tissue, through the muscles, through the gaps in-between his organs, and she got a hold of his spinal column. Blood sprayed onto her face and chest, and she did not blink nor did her smile falter even the slightest. The ecstasy overpowered her mind, and the cackling left her throat sore in the aftermath.

This night, she discovered that Meili Sinnuldel _genuinely _loves her Papa the most. Her feelings for him are not part of a persona or fabricated by the Souls in anyway, and she was more than happy to accept that aspect into her life.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Smirking, Roswaal closed the Gospel and hugged it close to his chest, reveling in the sensation of success and relief going through his chest. The fact that he could nearly hear the young girl's shrill cackles all the way to his study proves all the facts.

His future is secure, and his goal is still close at hand.

"Welcome back, Ser Emurdol."


	17. Love is Supreme

_He leaned back as the flames burst upwards in a short moment of fury. Putting the bottle down, he stood back and crossed his arms, waiting for a few more minutes. Afterwards, he flipped the steak on the pan before taking in the whiff of delicious meat in the kitchen air._

_His saliva glands aching from the boiling desire to _eat_, his Link to Meili synchronizing their hunger, he waited for a few more minutes._

_And when he decided enough is enough, he took the pan out of the heating plate powered by fire crystals and placed the saucy steak on a dish, a knife and two-prong fork placed at the side._

_Plate in hand, he turned and approached his daughter seated on the kitchen table, her legs swinging back and forth as she waited for the meal to be finished, and her olive green eyes flashed brightly upon seeing the food in his hands._

_"Midnight steeaak." Taking the plate into her hands, she looked up at him and asked, "Is this okay with Rami and Remiii? You know, cooking stuff like this without telling theeem?"_

_**"This is our home now, Meili, and we do as we wish. Besides, you deserve this after working yourself like a slave under Ram's knee in your free time."**_

_"Oh." Meili began to smile, "Then thank yoouu."_

_Emurdol took the fork and knife, sliced a small piece, picked it up with a fork and held it out to her._

_Meili wasn't amused, "Why are you feeding meee?"_

_**"Because I want to?"**_

_"I'm not a kid anymooore. I may be a couple weeks old by now but I was twelve years old before I died!"_

_**"But it's not as if you are opposed to it, are you?"**_

_She was about to deny it, but something held her back. There was the thing about never lying again, but she's also not hating the gesture either. She didn't even say it outright as well. The fact that she's not sure whether this was the Soul's influence or not is also not helping._

_**"You must understand, An'k. Behind every Priest of the Serpent, there is a human with a heart. Even we must hang up our robes and put away our charms and tools from time to time just to have a moment with our family." **__He held out the meat towards her again, _**_"Open up now, it will get cold."_**

_She grumbled but bit the piece of meat off the fork anyway, her pointy teeth shredding the meat quite easily. A foreign sensation. She had to chew slowly too, afraid that two points might collide and crack each other._

_After taking a bite for himself, he sliced another piece and held it out to her mouth again._

_After biting the piece and chewing, she asked, "Did you get to do so back in Pandemoniuuum?"_

_**"Hmm?"**_

_"Family, I meeaan. Did you take a break from your monster hunting like this before?"_

_With a wry smile and a dim glow in his eyes as he looked at a past years ago, he shook his head, _**_"Time was short for me. In a world ripe with evil and monsters that once ruled my world during the Rapture, Peace is a short interval. And our kind must work harder than any man to garner any trust from idiots."_**

_Knowing his history from Viandegroc's stories and from her Link that give her visions of her father's past in her sleep at random times, she garnered a simple guess as to why. "The Church gave you troouuuble, didn't they?"_

_The Holy Knights were fanatical, as she was told about them, and they were quite determined to hunt him down when they found his existence heading to the Northern Lands to elude them that warfare nearly broke out because of a pact violation between the Northmen and the Church due to trespassing on their borders without notice._

_Not that Emurdol was ever going to let them live even if they were let off with a warning. They could not be trusted, and once they find a Necromagus in their sights, they will _never _stop. They will even mark the Northmen as accomplices of her father's supposed 'crimes' and have them demonized with their twisted propaganda, and it won't be the first time they've done such a thing._

_The violent berating he suffered from the Clan Chieftains were harrowing, as his actions indirectly broke the pact, but it was worth it. And he easily appeased them with the compromise that so long as they pin all the blame on him, with the reasoning that he did it without their knowing, no blame will fall on the Northmen, their dignity as honorable men of the mountains remains secure, and their pact with the Church remains intact._

_They understood the reason of his actions, as they knew the kind of people the Holy Knights were and likewise aren't fond of them as he is, but they need to make the façade believable. So they banished him, banning him entry to the Northlands until he repents by paying a price that can only be paid with the actions he'll make outside their borders._

_The walking mountain of muscle that will soon become his very first friend chose to go with him as a witness and to head out into the world below the north for his own personal reasons, mainly for the glory of an adventure._

_**"The good thing is…I'm not there anymore." **__He remarked, taking a bite of the steak, _**_"I'm here with you and that's all that mattered. Besides, my successors will no longer suffer like I have and those before me. They will gain the respect a human being should have."_**

_"So basicallyyy, it won't be a difference whether you're here or theeere. You won't get hurt anymore since you did become a Hero back in Pandemonium and nobody in this world knows about us or our magics yeeet."_

_**"Did that idiot tell you I was a Hero?" **__He asked, the eldritch voice suddenly becoming dull and exasperated._

_"Yeah! And Uncle never shuts up about iiit!"_

_He rolled his eyes, shaking his head disapprovingly. _**_"If you define a man who would use the corpse of your loved ones as minions, take human lives in self-defense, and hates the majority of humanity a _****Hero**_**, then you are as crazy as the rest of us. You will be labeled a lunatic if they ever hear you say it."**_

_Considering that Meili is now capable of the things he and his kind were known for, full of terrifying and unpleasant things, it would be rather redundant to be called a lunatic so she doesn't care._

_Besides, he's excluding the positive things about himself that made him _worthy _of the title of Hero but Meili isn't going to do anything about it. She had her own reasons to respect him and love him, and none of it has anything to do with who he was in Pandemonium._

_After swallowing her bite, she told him with adoration in her voice, "Well, you're _my_ Hero, Papa."_

_His eyes suddenly looked at her in surprise, caught off-guard by the sudden confession. Meili didn't try to hide it, she instead smiled sweetly at him, her admiration practically bottomless in the depths of her olive green orbs that glowed in reflection of her feelings for him._

_Softening his features, he pulled her close to kiss her forehead and put his own against hers. Staying like that for a whole minute, they parted with Meili returning a kiss to his cheek._

_Cutting a large slice on the steak, he fed it to her and the eldritch voice took a tone that she had loved listening to so much, the one that was full of love and care that was solely devoted only to her._

_**"I will do my best to be worthy of you, An'k."**_

_For as long as midnight lasted, they relished the moment they had together as Father and Daughter._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The bone axe raised high, his torso and arms stiffening in preparation, and with a soundless grunt, he swung downwards and the sharpened edge of the ivory bisected the firewood cleanly like a hot knife through butter, sticking to the chopping block of a tree stump at the bottom.

Wrenching it off cleanly, the skeleton placed another block of firewood in place before it was chopped cleanly and smoothly like the first. Another block, another chop. A fourth one, more halves joined the pile. The rhythm repeated for more than 90 times, and the pile grew higher and higher.

One last rise of the axe, one final fall of the swing, the firewood is cleaved in half and he deems himself satisfied, even if a little. His muscles don't feel as if they have developed any further yet, especially when he hasn't broken the slightest bit of sweat. Compared to last time, it would only take 50 chops before he was worn down.

The many, many days of numerous physical labors done for Earlham Village has done wonders to repair his body that was deprived of its strength thanks to the Shade's release.

To think he even took a bit of time in the smithy making a dagger for Meili, hammering the anvil while the black metal is hot. The last time he was ever exposed to so much heat was when he went to the deserts. He would prefer uncharted territory in Pandemonium compared to searing sands that could boil him on the inside out. At least hellspawn can be handled with a sickle or a knife compared to a sandstorm.

_If this is Peace….._

He mused the thought, throwing the axe to Mother's hands while he felt the fibers of muscle in his right bicep and forearm with his left hand. This Peace, where he would not fight nor hide anymore, to settle and live simply with a daughter to love and friends to keep….

…._what would I do to keep it?_

He only heard of other Priests falling in love Above-World finding true Peace. Should he consider himself one of them? He did find that love, and its name is Meili. Someone he can raise, protect and _give_, that is love for him.

He heard the sounds of people cheering, laughing, and shouting, all coming from the village center. The main event must be starting.

Ordering Mother to have the chopped halves moved to a neat pile, he moved over to a patch of clear ground and had a simple skeleton rise from the ground. Gathering more energy into his hands, he had its entire anatomy shift, creating more mass in the ivory and turning into a lay figure with four functional arms.

Many days with Meili doing maid work as a side job to expend her bountiful amounts of free time when she isn't being trained and lectured or reading her book in Beatrice's library, it was inevitable that she would have the idea of a skeletal maid going through her head, doing most of the domestic work around the mansion. Emurdol couldn't help but entertain the possibility himself, striving to improve the intelligence of an artificial skeleton that can allow it to do more than menial tasks, even cook complicated dishes or textile work. It took many days, quite grueling as well, but it was a success with some help from a dead man. Artificial or not, it is still a Soul and Viandegroc knows how to deal with one. And Bartholomew's creations are highly intuitive.

Now this four-armed lay figure can certainly cook, clean the house, wash the dishes without breaking them, do the laundry, _and _defend its master. The last lay figures couldn't do the same, even if there was a hostile witchbeast in the house. Now, this one is highly intuitive, competent but having enough intelligence to read the atmosphere and follow commands.

_I wonder what art work will be done this time. The last ones were quite impressive._

More and more families have been getting more constructed servants after every competition, and the villagers have wonderful artistic abilities when they dress or paint their lay figures. It was baffling to see a lay figure fully painted all over that it almost looked like it was wearing the clothes of a noble while it's pulling a cart. Mild must have quite the talent with a paint brush. It was quite sweet to see little Meina treat her family's lay figure like it was a big sister or a nanny. A simple-minded nanny that could only do as much as she does, a child yet to pass her 9th turn.

Snapping a finger, Mother threw the axe back to him and he gave it to the construct. He placed one block of firewood on the stump, the creation didn't go for it instantly.

One more snap of a finger and pointing at the block, it walked up to the stump and cleanly chopped the firewood in half. Good form too.

_Perfect._ Walking out of the lumberjack's workshop, he returned to the commotion where Meili and Viandegroc have likely concluded their event, Mother and the construct close behind.

"Well, hello, Master Emurdol! Finished with the daily workouts now?"

"Good morning, Master Emurdol! You missed all the fun!"

"Master Emurdol, you should have seen what just happened moments ago!"

Since coming back and showing himself to the Village a second time, he was properly given the due thanks and respect he deserved for saving the children. For one thing, he was referred to as 'Master Emurdol' now, seen as a hero aside from someone associated with their Lord. Secondly, he was given a basket of apples, something he relished. Thirdly, he was accepted here, like a human. No one even questioned his creations of bones that would have repulsed regular humans in Pandemonium.

All this treatment as opposed to what he usually had in his old world made him care enough that he would risk it all to protect this simple village. Besides, the children are a delight.

Nodding his courtesies to the ones who greeted him, the square wasn't quite crowded compared to moments ago. He must have spent too much time in the chopping block that the event ended quite earlier than he thought.

"Ah, it's him!"

"Emurdol!"

"Hey!"

"Get him!"

And here comes the children.

A warm smile spread on his face, kneeling down and receiving the kids that came running towards him with open arms, soon overwhelmed from all sides with their embraces. His legs, now painted black, shifted to create four more legs, giving him a spider-like lower half and he raised his form upwards, carrying the children with him while they grunted and squealed in excitement.

**"Ready?" **The horrifying voice asked inside their heads.

Having suffered the occurrence more than 50 times, the children only replied with enthusiasm, "YEAH!"

His six legs then jabbed a circle on the ground, spinning himself and the kids around like a roundabout. His speed slowly increasing, with their legs steadily flying outwards from the momentum, whoever wasn't inside his arms were starting to slip off.

"Stop!" As always, the plump boy Mild was always the one to call stop. Considering his weight, it wouldn't be surprising for him to slip quickly. Most of the time, he wasn't lucky enough to be secured with an arm around him.

He slowed down to a stop, earning protests from the others to keep on going, especially Petra, the little one who had her arms around his neck in front of him and hanging on tightly. As soon as Mild got a firm grip on him again, he suddenly twisted around in the opposite direction, earning louder squeals and screams, their legs nearly parallel to the ground before he reached his final twirl and folded his legs under him into a 'kneel', letting the kids get their feet on the ground.

They were dizzy, of course, wobbling around in place and quickly competing with each other on who can stay up for long before their vision settles.

Apart from all the kids, Petra particularly _never _lets go of him unless he picks her up under the arms and set her down carefully. Even so, her little hand tends to stay on his arm until she was too far away.

The implications were not lost to him, but he did nothing to encourage nor discourage it. She'll grow over it.

Putting his black-ivory legs back together into a single pair of pointy stilts like always, he was ready to receive a little green-eyed girl of white who jumped into his arms and gave a peck to his cheek. He returned Meili's affections with a kiss to her forehead, pulling the hood on her capelet down even further to protect her eyes from the sun before setting her down, her brown hand holding his left.

"They woooon." She informed, pointing to the two dazed brothers sitting on the ground and back-to-back, Dane and Cain. "Petra was sooo close, but the skull's mouth fell ooooff."

"It was unfair!" Petra whined, "Dane and Cain were together while the rest of us had to do it alone!"

"Yeah!"

"Let's do it again but only one of them can do it!"

"The stick man's mine!"

Today was the day where the village children who took Viandegroc's classes with perfect attendance would try to assemble a whole skeleton individually, from toe to scalp, all of their weekday lessons put to the test. Whichever family wins gets a four-armed and better-improved servant that could match the performance of their Lord's Mansion servants.

"Come on, guuuys." Meili took the role of mediator, "Dane and Cain are too dumb that they need each other just to match each of your smaaaarts!"

"HEY!"  
"HEY!"

"Buuuuut, don't worry!" Meili leapt up to grab the same wide-brimmed hat she once wore off her father's head and held it out in front of her, the bottom facing upwards, "Papa's got consolation priiiizes!"

Immediately, their irate moods flipped upwards and turned bright. They quickly gathered in front of him, shoulder to shoulder, wondering what he's going to give.

"Me and Papa made these, y'knooow…" Meili wore a big showy smile as Emurdol reached inside the hat, slipped his left hand into the Void, and pulled out a miniature bear made entirely of ivory, complete with flexible jointed limbs, bendable back and neck, and functional jaw; a perfect imitation of the strongest animal in existence. "Ta daaaaaa!"

Their amazement was very profound, eyes shining at the toy as he placed it in his daughter's hands. "Lucas, it's for youuuu!" He held it out to the topless boy, future lumberjack of Earlham village. "Mr. Bear would definitely fit your futuuure."

"Sweet!" The boy quickly grabbed it out of her hands and Meili squeaked when Lucas gave her a rather crushing hug with a free arm. "Thanks, Meili! You're the best!"

"Agh! Lucas! Can't breathe!"

The other adults watching at the side giggled at the display, relishing in the sight of their local hero and daughter spoiling the children just like other times before.

Mild earned the Lion. While its mane could have been fitted with witchbeast fur for the sake of aesthetics, there wasn't enough time so Meili had no choice but to settle with it being carved on instead. The majesty of the creature is spot on, she can admit.

Meina, the youngest of them, got the honor of claiming the honey badger, small but _extremely _vicious, **especially **when it evolved in a Hell World like Pandemonium. It will represent her growth, because something special is in store for someone as young as her. Besides, her to-be-born sibling will come and grant her the responsibility of being the big girl of the house. Her little nature will erode to become strong, strong enough to protect the babe, just like the little monster critters.

Even though they already had a prize, Emurdol had a point to be fair and gave some to Dane and Cain too. They received wolves each, with distinct markings on the bodies to identify who owns which. It was fitting for the two. They function better together than apart.

And Petra, it's expected for her to own the bunny, matching the size of a regular bunny. Under Meili's request, Emurdol had given it the Soul and Mind to come alive whenever she's alone and follow her around like a dog. His daughter had a certain kind of fondness for the little one compared to the others.

But Emurdol is still fair, so he gave each toy a matching Soul and Mind. He could only imagine what they'll say to each other when they realize that their toys are _not _staying in the same spot they left them whenever they looked away.

No other Necromagus could do something like this, considering that manipulating Life Force is quite advanced and could only be learned after years and years of study, and even they could not create any more than two Golems without straining their psyche. Being gifted has its advantages, especially when born from an equally gifted Mother.

Leaving the children be to check each other's ivory critters, with Meili to join the fun, Emurdol walked over to Viandegroc and the parents of the two brothers beside him, his hat back to his head. "Welcome back, Brother. Your recovery is going well."

"Indeed." The stocky father agreed with a smile, "You couldn't get up for a whole two weeks and now you're doing a lot of muscle work for somebody fresh out of the sickbed."

"It has been three weeks already, hun." The little wife quipped, "I'm sure he has plenty of time to come back into perfect shape."

"Yes, but not as perfect as me though!"

Emurdol let out a huff alongside the woman's laughter, catching the man's strong handshake with his skeleton hand before sharing a softer one with the wife and beckoned the new construct to them. The servant stood in front of them before performing a knightly kneel, its head bowed low.

"Ah, so this is the one? And with four arms too."

"And Master Viandegroc said it can do more jobs than the other ones, right?"

**"Indeed." **He replied, with the pair not caring the least about the eldritch resonation inside their heads. **"Let him explain the details first."**

Finding his cue, Viandegroc stepped over, his cute kitty mask that smiled forever smooth and shiny as always. "If you would have me…" Bowing first with a hand to his chest, he folded his hands behind him and began explaining, "Now, as I have said to others before, the servant _cannot _replace the person. Having this construct in your home…."

Leaving the rest to him, Emurdol walked over to Emilia that stood just beside the well and patted her shoulder. "It's another wonderful day, isn't it?" She asked, her bell-like voice resonant despite being a slight whisper.

**"A particularly lively day, actually."** He retorted, suddenly squinting as he crossed his arms. **"Do not even **_**say**_** it's a good morning, Dear Girl. This stupid sun is hurting my eyes."**

"Yet you do not complain when Little Meili took your hat off your head." He huffed again, pulling her close by the waist and ruffling her head over her pointy-eared hood. Her protesting grunts were quick to come out despite the many times before, "He-hey! Stop! You meanie! Take this!" She reached out and messed up his hat in turn.

Since the passing of three weeks after coming back to the mansion, his bond with Emilia and the others in the Mansion has grown. Despite his reserved demeanor, he had developed the habit to fool around with her like a child whenever he can, all thanks to Meili's fondness for the half-elf passing onto him through their Link. He won't deny that he enjoyed her company himself. Her childishness was something to behold that it was hard to believe she is at her 18th turn.

After binding a contract with the winning family to the construct, Emurdol and company now took the long walk back home, back to the mansion after another day of free lectures for the village. The people are now getting formidable with their treatment and emergency skills. The next curriculum might be self-defense. It is highly needed, especially after the Witchbeast Incident.

The road taking them 15 minutes of a walk before the gates are reached, there was plenty of time for chat between them, especially for Meili who was quite the chatterbox.

"Say, Emilyyyy, don't you get bored coming with us everydaaay?" Meili asked, her gloved hand holding the half-elf's left and swinging it back and forth, "Must be dull, watching me, Uncle and Papa ramble on and on about our knowleeedge."

"Oh no, I actually don't mind." Emilia, with her hood now down and exposing the wreath of flowers crowning her head, waved off Meili's words, "I fancy being even a teeny bit involved with the people I rarely ever come in contact with. Coming with you and Emurdol and Uncle…I feel as if there's a growing connection between me and them whenever I do."

By Emurdol's behest and later her own initiative, Emilia would come with the Necromagi family to the village after her daily communion with the Nature Spirits just to watch the happenings, satisfied with just that.

Considering how fearful she is of other people's discrimination against her kind, this is something to give her semblance of at least a sense of comfort and ease around the common folk. It had to be done, as the girl can't hide from the public forever. As a candidate to the throne, it's part of her obligations to be seen by all. Earlham Village is a start.

"You lot are becoming well-liked and famous by the people, even more than Ram or Rem."

"All thanks to Brother's heroism and Meili's schemes, of course." Viandegroc added, his right hand squeezing Meili's left as she held it tightly. The little girl in question smiled wryly, a small blush crossing her milky-white cheeks. All this popularity because of the lethal troubles she brought in the first place. There was a morbid sense of pride going through her.

"Don't forget to include yourself and your lectures too, Uncle." Emilia reminded, "They see you as the village scholar and a super-hardworking night watchman."

Emilia, for some reason, had taken to calling Viandegroc 'Uncle' as well. Though she knew his name, she would address him the same way Meili would. Emurdol had the suspicion that his daughter brought that influence on, or maybe because Viandegroc and Puck got along like a house on fire, finding kinship in the other as Spiritual beings in essence. More often than not, the robed Flesh Golem would be seen beside the half-elf, talking to her and generally spending his free time in her company whenever the both of them are not occupied.

Meili shook their held hands, calling the half-elf's attention, "How 'bout me, Emilyyy?"

With her free hand, Emilia pondered over it with a finger to her chin. Then she raised it up and answered, "I'd call you the event organizer, Little Meili."

The daughter giggled, remembering why she came upon that label.

There was a time when Meili gave Puck some of her mana of high potency just so they could play together a lot longer past 5 Dark Time. The mixture of the Spirit's mana with her own ended up causing it to expand, causing a phenomena called a 'Magic Release Period' to happen the next day. The Mansion was _frozen _because of the excess mana that leaked out of the cat-like Spirit, practically turning the building into an ice block.

The drawbacks were endless. For one thing, his legs and skeleton hand nearly destroyed themselves due to freezing overnight. Meili's already-cold skin started to crust in ice, and her brown hand nearly came off. Viandegroc almost couldn't move due to being a lump of dead meat in a cold environment and he had to create multiple skeletal magi to serve as walking heaters. Mother was completely still lest she broke herself by merely _moving_. Ram, Rem, and Beatrice were shaking in the chill when it got worse. The only ones who held strong is Roswaal, who wore thickly; Emilia who is contracted to Puck and is unaffected; and Emurdol himself, considering that he was raised Underground with _no _source of heat his entire childhood.

Emurdol suggested that they spend the time away in the baths, neck deep in pleasurably-warm waters to fight the cold. It was wonderful on the first day, but the fact that they cannot stay inside for too long lest they pass out made the idea moot.

Out of nowhere, Meili decided that they spread the barrier that kept the cold inside the mansion to around the Mansion borders and make it snow. When she realized that it _will _snow, she thought up something even bigger. And it is to call all of the Earlham Villagers for a snow sculpture making competition.

Emurdol never raised her to be outgoing, but it hints evidence of self-identity. Meili liked to share the excitement with other people, and he'd be damned to disallow such a thing.

The excitement went higher when he made every snow sculpture shaped as living beings come alive for his own amusement. The villagers and the mansion folk had so much fun, and he never knew the mere _bliss_ of childlike enjoyment until he done it, especially when he joined the snowball fight with Meili and the children, even _Beatrice _was involved. It was the greatest day he ever had in the Mansion that day. A day he knew _Peace._

"And what of Brother here? What would he be?" Viandegroc brought up, gesturing to the tallest of the group who walked at Emilia's free side. Mother had already gone ahead to the Mansion, taking the backyard as her entry point and heading back to Emurdol's room.

Emurdol turned to face the half-elf, awaiting her assessment of him.

"Hmm…oh! You can be the benefactor, Emurdol. Like Roswaal." She told with a beautiful smile, "You practically fund Meili's education and the events she plans, supply Uncle's lectures, and even manage some of the more complicated parts behind the scenes. I've seen you working hard from time to time to make reeaally cool toys and smart lay figures."

Emurdol thought about it, and found that it made sense. **"That's agreeable. I was the one who made Rem and Ram's masks, anyway."**

"Hey!" Meili leaned forward to look at her father in the eye, "You did but _I_ designed them! Don't take all the credit from me, Papaaa!"

He turned a cheeky leer to her direction, **"All you did was sketch while I handled all the molding and detailing."**

"If it wasn't for me asking, we wouldn't be celebrating their birthday!"

**"I cooked the entire feast, An'k."**

"I kept them from noticing our surprise!"

**"All the heavy work done under my hand."**

"The whole thing wouldn't be possible without me!"

"Okay, you two, stop!" Suddenly, Emilia stood in front of the two with her hands on her hips, looking at them admonishingly. "You two are daddy and daughter, you two should love each other, not shout and argue. You both done lots on Rem and Ram's birthday, so each of you get equal credit, understood?"

The two were wide-eyed, still as statues, not expecting to be lectured by the most innocent member of the Mansion so early in the morning. They glanced at each other before back to Emilia and submitting, raising their right hands in unison, one gloved and the other made of black ivory.

"Understoooood."  
**"Understood."**

"Very good. Now give each other kisses and say you're sorry."

While Emurdol had to pause to wonder _why _she even thought of that, Meili didn't wait. She quickly jumped to his chest, which he reacted quickly and caught her in his arms. She then closed her eyes, her little lips ready and waiting. Huffing in amusement, he gave a loving kiss to her cheek instead. Opening her eyes, pouting, she removed his hat and gave one back to his forehead before bumping it against hers. A little role-reversal on who usually receives which.

"Okay! Let's keep walking." She returned to the space in-between Viandegroc and Emurdol, with Meili staying in the former's arms as Emilia took the Flesh Golem's right hand and the Necromagus' free left before leading them forward.

Not for long, the gates of the mansion were finally in sight.

And before the stairs that led to the entrance was a carriage, drawn by a rather gigantic lizard that stood on two feet like a prehistoric reptile.

Emurdol could not contain his fascination as he got closer and closer to it. _So that is a Ground Dragon._

He had seen so many back in the Capital, but he never had the chance to look closely before. He was focused on reaching the Loot House first before Felt or Emilia at the time. Now that there is one right there, he now has the opportunity to do so.

Meili turned to face him, noticing the information she's having from her Link, "Never seen one before, Papaaa?"

He shook his head.

As the group got closer and closer, he was able to take in more details. It is indeed as large as a horse, slimmer than one—maybe even lighter, built with strong legs, a muscular tail, and comparatively small arms that sported claws. It also had frills on its head and a smooth snout, showing small bits of overbite teeth. The reptilian slits on its eyes were a sight to behold.

He could not stop comparing the creature to a Raptor that once existed millions—maybe billions of years ago before the Rapture.

The coachman was there, awaiting them to come close. "Well, well. Kindly look out below." The man stood up and agilely leaped down to the ground from the eye-level box seat of the carriage, and Emurdol marveled at the lack of _sound _upon his landing, especially when the driver is an old gentleman. He bowed elegantly, "Welcome back. Please excuse me for parking my vehicle before the entrance."

With the speech and bearing to match too. Even his form seemed to be well-built and finely-toned under the crisp black suit he wore despite his advanced years.

"The emissary is already inside and likely engaged in an audience with Margrave Mathers right now."

Having the answer before the question was asked, Emurdol's response was to raise an eyebrow in question.

Emilia stepped forward and spoke, "Emissary? Could this be….?"

"It is as you suspected, Lady Emilia, it regards the Royal Selection."

Internally, Emurdol became stiff. Meili did too. First, the gentleman addressed Emilia _by her name_, especially with the cloak she wore that was enchanted to hide her identity and face. Secondly, the mention of 'Royal Selection' tipped him off about something.

Emilia became stiff after hearing it too, catching the same conclusion as him.

_Could it be finally starting?_

"I believe the emissary bears a message for you. Please step inside and receive it in person."

When Emilia asked, her voice was a tad softer, "…Am I being summoned?"

"Please ask the messenger personally."

Her head lowered, the crown of flowers strangely not slipping off, and she said to the three people behind her without looking back, "Let's go." She began walking up the stairs, a hint of a hurry and nervousness showing from her body language.

Giving the gentleman a greeting nod alongside Viandegroc and Meili, he ascended the stairs, his stilted feet having no trouble as they made light thuds on the stone. Taking a brief glance behind him, the coachman remained bowed as he watched them go.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Welcome back, Lady Emilia."

Greeting the three back at the foyer was Rem, with a rather formal persona put on. Emurdol hasn't seen such a side of her for weeks now.

Viandegroc simply gave her a nod before walking past her and heading back to Emurdol's quarters.

"Thank you, Rem." Emilia thanked her, "Pardon me for leaving the mansion. I hear that we have a guest?"

"Yes. An emissary from the Royal Capital is visiting. Lord Roswaal is in conversation with the guest. Do you wish to join them?"

"Of course. This actually concerns me and we can't have myself out of the loop."

Rem nodded and walked up the stairs along with the half-elf, leaving Emurdol and Meili behind. They glanced back at each other, and the daughter asked, "So we're not invooolved?"

**"This is her business, not ours."** He replied, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall. **"Though I can't say I'm not keen to know the circumstances behind it."**

"Well, what can we do nooow? I don't wanna stand around doing nothiiing. Hmmm…" She sat on the floor, leaning back against his lower legs as she pondered over her options. Then she found one, looking up to his upside-down gaze. "…oh, how about we talk to the old man outsiiide? He might tell us somethiiing."

**"If he wants to, of course."**

"I know, information confidentiality, but we can tryyy." She held her hands out to him and he pulled her up to her feet, "I'll go get dressed, and you ready the teeaa, Papa. Not the regular ones, get Rami's rare tea herbs insteaad~"

She said all of that with a straight face.

He tilted his head, cocking one eyebrow, **"Are you being gracious, or is this out of spite?"**

Meili simply gave him a flirty smile, but the light in her green eyes exhumed malice. That was all the answer he needed.

He never knew a time where his daughter had hit back at Ram for driving her like a slave, even if Meili was the one who suggested and initiated it in the first place. Could this be the first strike? Or maybe she was very subtle about it and had done so many times already without him ever noticing it?

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Hellooo! Good morniiing!" A very sweet greetings hollered from the top of the stairs, the owner of the voice descending down to the bottom level where the dragon carriage and its driver waited. "It isn't quite appealing staying around outside doing nothing so I brought refreshments~!"

The old gentleman widened his eyes in surprise at the holler, watching a little white-haired girl in a little maid uniform descending down the stairs with a tray of tea in hand. Emurdol followed behind her, his black ivory legs shifted to form shoes. He kept his vest but buttoned and he wore his baggy leather pants, replacing his black leg shades that split in four sides.

"Well, I beg your pardon. It is quite unexpected, so please look out below again." The coachman performs another silent leap to the ground from the driver's seat and continued, "I shall accept your offer. My throat has become slightly parched, most certainly."

"Then here you go, Master Coachmaaaan!" Meili wore a cute smile as she held out the tray to him, the tea hot and ready for him, the persona of an amicable maid worn like a glove. "I didn't know what you liked so I picked the best selection from the kitcheen."

The gentleman wore a mild smile as he accepted the tray, causing his wrinkles to become pronounced.

Emurdol briefly relished the sight of her working her magic on the senior before he turned his attention to the eye-catching creature in front of him as he stepped close to it. The raptor eyed him back with the same light of curiosity, nearing its sleek snout towards him, as if to smell him.

Unravelling his black skeleton hand from his crossed arms behind his back, he steadily reached for the creature's snout to land a touch, expecting it to be bitten off. Instead of that happening, it nuzzled his ivory grasp and sniffed the place where the bones of the prosthetic ended to smell his natural scent, making a deep rumble in its throat similar to a purr.

With childlike fascination, he stroked its scales.

"Well, that is a rare sight to see." The gentleman mentioned, looking at Emurdol's interaction to the raptor with wide blue eyes while he held his cup. "I wouldn't expect the ground dragon to react so kindly to you, my good sir."

"Hehe. Papa never saw a ground dragon up clooose." Meili explained, looking at the exchange passively, "I bet the dragon's curious of Papa toooo."

"Is that so? This ground dragon's breed is one of the finest and proudest specimens so I'm quite shocked to see this exchange." The gentleman turned his eyes to the marks on Emurdol's skin, and eyed the one found on his neck. "If I may ask, are those battle scars?"

The necromagus turned to meet the coachman's eyes and nodded, unbuttoning his vest with a free hand just slightly to reveal the long healed gash on his left collarbone that led to the right waist and a few more other healed scratches scattered around, especially the large spot that was closed on the center of his abdomen. Ever since he let Meili have her way with him as he returned to the Mansion, he carried even more scars than before, being brutalized by her brown hand in more ways than one that he was bedridden for more than three days. Impressively, they all looked as if they came from the claws and fangs of beasts, further solidifying the continued rumor of being injured in the aftermath of the Witchbeast Incident.

As always, he never did anything to make them fade away. They are marks of her progress. The more he had, the more she's grown as a wyrmm that's nearing the surface of the earth to take in the air of the Above-World, especially when outside his supervision. He couldn't be any more prouder to wear them on his flesh for the rest of his life.

"From the fangs and claws of beasts, I presume? Correct me if I'm wrong but it has taken your ability to speak, hasn't it?"

Emurdol and Meili shared eye contact, giving each other bitter and wry smiles, reminded of the ugly circumstances that happened a month ago that they were supposed to forget.

The gentleman realized his mistake and bowed mournfully, "I am deeply sorry for mentioning. It may not be a question you wish to answer." He brought his cup to his lips. "A lovely taste. A rather fascinating and considerable quality in it, I can imagine."

Meili giggled, "Glad to knooow. Let's introduce each other, shall weee?" Twirling, her skirt flaring and performing a perfect curtsy, she introduced, "My name's Meili Sinnuldel, mock servant of the mansion and aspiring mage. And that's my Papa, Emurdol Viandegroc, supporter and vassal-in-waiting of the Lady Emilia." She gestured to her father and the latter responded by clapping the rhythm of greetings before bowing with a skeleton fist to his chest.

The gentleman's expressions lightened upon their display of courtesies, "My, such a polite pair you two make. You may call me Wilhelm. I currently serve the House of Karsten, and an errand from my Master led me here along with my passenger. I don't suppose you both came here simply to serve me tea, yes?"

"Maybe nooot, but me and Papa would like to know the reason for the visit, if you do not miiiind?"

"Hmm, I believe the emissary is speaking about the matter?" Wilhelm asked.

"Indeeeed, but Lady Emilia was set on handling it herself so it felt like we were not really neeeeeded." Meili meekly approached him, "But if you could tell me, that would be wonderful."

"Well, since your dear father is a vassal, even if yet to be, I suppose I can tell you with only bits of it. I hope you understand."

Emurdol nodded, his left hand caressing the side of the dragon's body. So rough, yet shining from the sun above. Truly magnificent. "It's okaaay." Meili answered on his behalf.

"It concerns the Royal Selection and the Ceremony is due in a couple of days." Wilhelm informed, "Your Ladyship is going to be seen by the public eye."

"Aaah…" Meili turned a neutral look to Emurdol's direction, but there was a hint of concern lighting up in her eyes. The father noticed the implications in her gaze. The world will begin to acknowledge Emilia's existence, including her state as a silver-haired half-elf that looked very similar to the Witch of Envy. One could only imagine the discrimination that's bound to come her way, especially when she's striving for the Seat of Power.

Emurdol isn't liking the thought of it, especially when he was experienced of such treatment himself. His outward demeanor betrayed nothing of his ruminations, of course.

_Hmm…_

"Though, I must say, you two do seem very close to Lady Emilia, I noticed. She was hand in hand with your father and a hooded man when you all arrived. It did not seem like an image of a standard relationship between master and retainer."

"Well, we don't really care about statuseeees." Meili told, "Me, Papa and Uncle being formal around Emily would be just saaad."

Wilhelm cocked an eyebrow in wonder, "_Emily_?"

"Yeah! It's what I call heeer." She smiled sweetly, her maid persona now removed to reveal her playful and amicable self. "I'm just being a cute little maidy for fun, y'knooow, so I don't have to call her Lady Emilia or anythiing. And even Papa calls her 'Dear Giiiirl', right, Papa?"

Emurdol huffed, nodding as his left hand scratched the dragon's rough chin, which the creature enjoyed.

"Such a treacherous path you both walk. She might become the next Queen of Lugnica one day."

Emurdol snorted, and Meili broke out laughing, not loud like a guffaw but she still laughed, reservedly and quietly, so as to not look out of place in her maid uniform.

"Have I said something amusing?"

Meili faked wiping a tear, looking at Wilhelm in the eyes sharply, her green eyes flashing once. "We already aaare." She tugged the cuff of her glove just slightly, revealing the brown back of her hand. "Something I lost in the circumstanceeees." She gestured to her father, and the latter held out his skeleton hand, rotating it and flexing the fingers to show every detail to the gentleman. "That used to have skin and muscles a month agoooo. Somebody tried to kill Emily and he lost his hand during the tiiime."

Emotion Suppression successfully held down the memory of the woman responsible for the assault from going through her head.

Wilhelm regarded the pair grimly, now looking at them in a new perspective, "And yet your loyalty to your Ladyship does not falter despite the losses suffered."

"Naaaah. They happened because of our choices aaaat the time. Can't be blamed on Emilyyyy."

So much context hidden behind every sentence, and yet she never told a single lie. She's getting better at it, Meili realized. Her cheeks blushed lightly in pride.

"Both your resolves are admirable, and I am merely a driver. I doubt I could match such devotion."

"Pleeeaaase, Mr. Will." Meili suddenly butchered his name, her casual demeanor breaking through proper courtesies. "You know that's not truueee. I mean you _knew _it was Emily even though she had her hood on."

Wilhelm's expression became stoic instantly, silent.

"The cloak was supposed to hide her identity and only those she allows can see her face, or unless they can break through the ward. So me and Papa are not gonna believe you if you call yourself a 'mere driveeer'."

All thanks to Roswaal's enchantments, a simple cloak with ridiculous animal ears protruding at the top of the hood could easily hide the half-elf away from the brunt of the hate and discrimination that could have went her way without it.

"…and someone of your age realized that from the beginning. You're quite cunning, Miss Meili."

Meili giggled, "It was obvioouus, considering who Emily is and _why _she has to weaaar it."

Wilhelm's eyes regarded the smiling girl differently now, "It seems I cannot refer to myself merely as a driver anymore. As you surmised, I am indeed related to the Royal Selection…or rather, related to someone related."

"Related to someone involved to the Royal Selection, you meeaan." Meili paraphrased, earning a nod from the gentleman. "Does that mean the owner of the Karsten House you serve a candidate toooo?"

"Yes." Wilhelm nodded after a brief pause, "Yes, indeed."

"So just like Papaa." She turned to her father, who is now finished acquainting with the dragon and simply leaning against the wheel of the carriage, watching the exchange silently. She turned back to him, "Do you serve out of devoootion?"

"That, and out of gratitude. It is something that falls short of what I truly owe to my Lady." The admiration flared in his eyes as he said that, showing the true extent of his fealty quite subtly. His attention then turned to the top of the stairs behind her, "Ah, it seems our time for talk is over."

"I knooow. I could smell and hear them from heeere." Meili mentioned, turning around and facing the two people descending down before performing a curtsy.

Emurdol's eyes remain planted on the one who must be the envoy that Rem accompanied, and what he's seeing nearly sent him into a battle mindset. What negated the full effect was the fact that this emissary had a human face below the pair of cat ears protruding from the brown locks and wore _clothes_.

_So this is a Demihuman. _He concluded, setting the sight apart from what he's used to back in Pandemonium; Murderous and ugly, this one had a cute face and is not attacking him on sight for his delicious mana._ She could nearly pass as a human if not for the feline ears and the tail._

The demihuman noted his gaze and wore a teasing smile, different to what Meili usually gave. "Gee, it's normal to fall for someone beautiful on the first glance but it is still rude to stare, you know~?"

Delicate, cute, and willowy. It completely destroyed his last impression of beings like her back in his old world. This one could speak and is _teasing _him.

As Emurdol crossed his arms, the demihuman girl turned to Wilhelm, "Hey, Grandpa Wil. Sorry to make you wait outside like that. Must've been boring, _meow_?"

"Oh no, not at all." The gentleman replied, gesturing to Meili and Emurdol, "These kind pair deigned to keep these old bones in company and conversation, helping me pass the time quite enjoyably."

"_Mew_?" The girl's feline pupils narrowed to oval slits as she observed and examined the pale man carefully. After some time, she clapped her hands and said, "Oh ho, I see. You're the man Lady Emilia mentioned."

She suddenly pressed herself against him, her soft chest meeting his vest-covered own, one leg slipping in-between his own, looking up to his towering gaze with salacious eyes while one arm wrapped around his waist while the other placed a hand on the back of his neck. "Don't move now, it's time for a little inspection." She purred hotly.

Then she mashed her face to his scarred neck, her lips grazing the healed flesh while the hand holding his nape traced lines. Emurdol was very still, but an expression of malice spread all over his face. Brightly glowing eyes of green, a dark frown forming on his creases, his hair floating against the current of invisible waters and his teeth morphing into sharp points as his sneer grew.

"Nom!" She nipped his neck.

Alarmed at the sudden unwanted contact, he shot a hissy screech at the demihuman, his hair flaring like a fan and baring his teeth at her like a lion. For the slightest moments, he became an image of horror that even Meili blanched from the sight of it.

"Geez! No need to take it too harshly!" The girl whined pitifully, then stopped with the act and said, "Looks like Lady Emilia didn't say anything about your entire body being completely different besides it _decaying_ even though you're not showing any symptoms. Your organs are not in the right places, and there's some others that shouldn't be there too. It's unlike anything I've ever seen in _meow_ life. What are you?"

_She found that out, huh? _Emurdol was quite surprised to have a complete stranger notice his hidden condition aside from Puck and Beatrice.

Meili suddenly appeared in front of her father defensively, giving the demihuman a childish stink eye, "Papa's human, kitty. He's been trying to fight off the decay everyday with lots of healthy food and water. And he made his organs that way. What did you just do?"

"Checking his body, kid. Don't worry, I didn't do anything bad. But I gotta tell you, fruits and greens won't be enough. He needs really thorough medical attention. If only I had the time though…" She eyed Emurdol curiously, who was stoically glaring at her, "It looks like they didn't tell you anything, have they?"

"About what?" Meili asked in his stead.

"About the deal, and other stuff like that."

Meili frowned, so did Emurdol. Something that concerned him was happening and they weren't even notified of it. "What's it all about?"

"Oh, what should I say~? It's an important job tooo~~"

"Leave it at that, Felis." Wilhelm chided the girl. Meili silently thanked him. She was prancing around the details—it was irking, and her father's annoyance passed onto her mind, which amplified her own.

"Boo. You're too serious, Grandpa Wil. It's no fun at all."

The gentleman ignored her completely, turning to the father-daughter pair, "I am thankful for the company and the tea. Well then, we will take our leave now." Wilhelm put his cup back to the tray before returning it to Meili's hands with a bow, "The tea was wonderful. Master Emurdol and Miss Meili, may you both be in good health." With the same grace as before, the gentleman leapt up to the driver's seat and took hold of the reins.

Emurdol and Meili returned his bow. The cat girl was sour for being ignored but she recovered quickly and winked at the necromagus' direction, "Sowwy. Could have teased you a little more but we're meowt of time for today. If we don't hurry soon, our dear Lady Crusch will get so worried she won't sleep the night."

_Crusch. _Emurdol repeated the name a couple times in his head, burning it to his memory as something to remember. It could be useful.

"Sorry for no introductions, you two, but Feli's real busy. Later~!" Wearing that annoying teasing smirk again, she entered the carriage and closed the door.

With a crack of the reins, Wilhelm bid them goodbye, "Farewell."

With a deep bray that vibrated pleasantly in his ears, the wheels creaked in motion as the dragon stomped the ground several times before taking a powerful step forward, instantaneously accelerating in a baffling burst of speed that wasn't possible for its size in an instant unless from a slow winding start. The carriage took no time in reaching the gates, and outside the mansion borders, kicking up a cloud of dust behind on the dirt road.

Once again, Emurdol marveled in the physical power of a creature that was _not _trying to kill him. The times he ever had in Pandemonium was when they were already dead or turned into zombies.

Something else intrigued him, however.

**"Did you see it too?" **An inquiry asked in Meili's head.

The daughter nodded with a smile, affirming his suspicions. "It was full of _love_." She whispered, her hissy voice reaching his hypersensitive ears.

Emotions transcend across realms, whether here or the Spectral Realm, and the Soul that had hovered around Wilhelm was _so_ full of his love that the entity _willingly _broke out of the Afterlife to soak in it and give it back a thousandfold.

Whoever the old gentleman was, he had lost somebody so dear and precious to him, most presumably a wife, and he had loved her so much that despite the years without her by his side, it remains strong to this day.

For all of his negative opinion towards Above-Worlders, people like him are worthy of a certain level of his respect. If Wilhelm _doesn't _try to bring her back to life by any means and simply **accepts **her death, then it will be Emurdol who shall watch his attitude around the old man instead of the other way around.

Sighing, he turned around and jogged up the stairs, taking two steps at a time before he reached the door and entered the mansion.

Meili and Rem followed after him, going in a calm pace. The former turned to look at the side of the maid's face, noticing the slightest hint of displeasure in the orbs of light blue. "Upset, Remiii?"

Hearing her being addressed by her nickname and brought out of her thoughts, she slightly stuttered, "Ah…well….Master Felix shouldn't do that to Ser Emurdol."

The wyrmm giggled, bumping her hip with her own, sending Rem slightly stumbling but easily getting her footing back on the stairs. "Don't worryyyy, Papa now has a bad impression on her. Besides, you two already shared a kiiiss."

Rem's cute face instantly turned a deep red, remembering the time when Emurdol made a point to show that he had completely forgiven her when she still continued to put doubts on herself. Words weren't going to work, so he showed it by action. The maid spent the entire day dazed and swooning in the aftermath.

Meili wore a warm smile all the way, and once they were past the door, she asked sweetly, "What's a fact?"

Rem put the hands placed on her cheeks down, facing the little one with a smile, "Meili loves Ser Emurdol."

Emurdol will love whoever Meili loves.

"What's the truth?"

The maid leaned her upper body downwards, towards the smaller maid that their faces are close together, "Meili loves Rem."

Emurdol _loves _Rem, genuinely and wholeheartedly.

Then Meili kissed Rem's cheek lovingly, completing the ritual that will quell her insecurities whenever it rises up again.

A bond had grown between Rem and the Necromagi family, and it is something particularly special that it was held sacred. Through her Link, Meili knew that her father had special feelings for the blue maid. It something close to love, related to friendship, and similar to familial fondness. It was an emotion the wyrmm had never experienced before, completely alien that no ordinary human could ever feel it except Emurdol himself.

Meili had taken it upon herself to coax it out of her father and express them to Rem, so she can understand it and give her the courage to do the same. She also had her own special feelings for Rem, likely because of their Link having her share similar thoughts about the maid, but she didn't care. She wants to put Emurdol first, however, have him do the first move before she does.

A day to look forward to.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"—And did you fulfill your duties as envoy?"

"Well, of course. I would never fail to do anything my Lady Crusch requests of me. Oh, Grandpa Wil, you worrywart!"

"…."

"…...but I have to say, I didn't expect you to speak to those two while waiting. Don't you hate talking to people?"

"That is a horrible misunderstanding."

"Oh, is it now? Sowwy. It's just that you seem to like slicing people more than talking to them, right?"

"That is an even worse misunderstanding."

"Aw…you're no fun, always speaking formally to your Dear Ferris even though we've been together for so long. What, was it more fun listening to those two than me? Was it because they seemed special? Was there meowre to that pale guy and that little girl? Are they actually so strong that they hid their abilities behind personas or something?

"You may have assessed them correctly, as despite Sir Emurdol's condition and Miss Meili's age they are certainly more than they appear, like docile bears peacefully grazing the grass, but that isn't what interested me."

"Then what, Grandpa Wil? You're not usually like this."

"….their eyes."

"Eyes?"

"The girl's eyes say they have seen death, suffered it, and have come back. Such eyes on a child her age and yet continue to behave normally wasn't something I thought possible."

"…."

"As for her father….his own say that they have seen cruel, horrible and terrifying things, far more than a single man could possibly handle in a single lifetime, and yet he retained his sanity in the aftermath. No matter how strong, there are limits to a man's willpower and spirit before it breaks but his…his was something above-average….and abnormal. The two were unlike anything I've ever seen in my life. You can say that it compelled my curiosity."

"Pffft…._meow_, it doesn't make sense….but if that's true, then the two of them won't find an easy path to cross.

"…..."

"Having the Sword Devil, Wilhelm van Astrea, interested in you is as unfortunate as the Witch having a thing for you."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"We're coming too, Emilyyy! Uncle and Grandma tooo!"

"What!?"

"I second the notion, considering I and Mama mustn't be far away from Brother if he is ever inconvenienced."

The relieved tension of the reception room was quickly shattered when Meili barged herself in, followed by the robed Flesh Golem who left behind his kitty mask in Emurdol's room, revealing his faceless visage that once unsettled Emilia long ago but not anymore.

"Listen, Emurdol, my summons there is actually very serious business. It's unlike anything—"

**"You are called to the Royal Selection and the Ceremony that comes after, I'm aware." **Emurdol told, **"The gentleman outside filled me in."**

"Then…then why would you want to come?"

**"For one thing, I want to find the best healer the Royal Capital has to offer. I have been trying to repair my throat and it only needs the most skilled healer to finish it. I need someone incredibly skilled that I cannot rely on even Beatrice to do it. Second, I want an audience with Ser Reinhardt. Reasons are purely personal. Third—"**

"To enchant my kniiife!" Meili interjected, holding up the black wavy blade in the air. Her old bone kris was readily fused into her brown hand, used as more bone components in its hidden arsenal once Emurdol gave her the knife he's been forging in the village smithy. A simple gift.

The father turned to her with a flat stare, **"That's the **_**fourth **_**thing, An'k."**

"Oh. Then, what's the thiiird?"

He returned to Emilia, **"To familiarize the layout of the Kingdom and see what I can buy in its economic industries. Armor, for example. I **_**have **_**lost my plackart back at the Loot House, of course. I also want protection for Meili as well."**

"I'm not gonna wear bones like yoouu?" Meili asked.

**"Consider it an extra layer, An'k. Better to be safe than sorry. It's how I survived this long."**

"Okaay." She figured that made sense, and she asked, "Is there a fifth ooone?"

**"Lastly, to know who I'm dealing with."**

There is certainly more to come than just discrimination. There _will _be fanatics. It's so obvious that no one should have to think hard about the possibilities. This is extremely _typical _of idiots. There's no doubt about it.

"Emilyyy, why don't you want Papa and us comiiing?"

"Well…" Emilia was conflicted, "If you go with me….you might overexert yourself again. And honestly, I don't want you or your Mother or Uncle to do that. I mean, _look_." She gestured to his black hand and then his entire body, including his throat, "You lost your hand back at the loot house for my sakes, now you lost your voice during the witchbeast incident. I don't want you to lose even more of yourself for me."

Emurdol snorted, covering the lower half of his face. Meili covered her mouth with her brown hand, barely stopping the chuckles from breaking out. Viandegroc stroked his chin, a tiny hint of amusement in his monotonous body language. Rem looked down guiltily. Ram scowled dourly. Roswaal grinned in amusement, watching everything from the side.

The spectacle in the Loot House is debatable but he did _not _try too hard for her sakes when the witchbeast incident happened. He was running away, even tried to commit _suicide_, and he didn't even knew what was going on at the time until he noticed the emergency at Earlham Village.

Despite all this time, Emilia still knew _nothing _about the true circumstances behind everything that day. Even her memory during the day the Shade wrecked the world apart was purged to nothing alongside the Earlham Villagers'.

"What? Why are you all acting strangely? Is what I said ridiculous?"

With both his skeletal and living hand, he placed them on her shoulders and said, **"Soon, Dear Girl, I will have to tell you the actual truth behind my actions that day when the witchbeasts attacked."**

"Eh?" Emilia face became blank.

"Yes, _yeees_, that is far enough." Roswaal finally decided to get this over with, "This conversation doesn't seem to be _maaaaaking_ any headway so let us have a compromise. Ser Emurdol shall accompany you to the Capital and perform his tasks while you, Lady Emilia, shall concern yourself with only the Royal Selection. It's not as if he's _trying _get involved in it, _yeeees_?

No one in the Necromagi family denied nor confirmed his words.

"Roswaal…" Emilia tried to protest but failed, noticing the logic in his words.

"_Besiiides_, he does need medical attention." The lord reminded, resting his cheek on his fist as he turned to face Emurdol. "As we all know, his body _is decaaaaying_. Though he may have halted the progression with his magic, it cannot _laaaaast_ forever. Isn't that right, Ser _Emuuuurdol_?"

The pale man nodded, **"If my grip loosens for more than a few minutes, irrecoverable complications will arrive."**

Releasing the Shade and having it perform reality-warping feats that affected the _entire _domain has drawbacks. His body degraded, and it's beginning to rot on the inside. Though he may have tried on a healthy diet, it isn't enough. He knew that. That's why he needed an accomplished healer.

"You said you can fix it but need a reeaally good healer to do so, right?" Emilia asked, remembering what she heard from many days prior.

"Well, you're in luck, Ser _Emuuuurdol_. Because Lady Emilia here has personally called for the _peeeerfect_ healer to meet your requirements."

"Roswaal! Wait a…! That's—"

Roswaal ignored the flustered half-elf, asking, "Have you meeeet the emissary earlier?"

**"And?"**

"That emissary is an accomplished user of water magic, the element of life and healing, even by the _standaaards_ of the Capital. With such skill, you will without a doubt have no trouble repairing your body with that child's help. As the person's quite quirky, Lady Emilia went through a lot of trouble _tooo_ negotiate for cooperation…"

All eyes from the Necromagi family turned to face the now-red Emilia.

Meili wore a teasing smile, now liking the half-elf a lot more, "So, Emily does caaare."

Viandegroc nodded in agreement, "It was truly right of us to think of you highly."

Emurdol huffed in silent laughter, enclosing the girl in his arms and spinning her around, eliciting a surprised yelp from her. The crown on her head didn't fly off despite the momentum, **"Dear Girl, you needn't be shy about intentions like this. Give me the opportunity to be thankful." **He stopped the spinning and set her down, **"Such selflessness cannot go unnoticed, especially if it's for me."**

"I-I mean, it's partly my fault that you aren't fully healed, Emurdol. You wound up here because you shielded me, and I should've done something about the witchbeasts but you did that in my place instead. So, consider this as repayment, or a sort of compensation for all your losses, however you wish to see it…."

Emurdol harrumphed, understanding her point. **"If that's what you say, why are you so opposed to me going with you when the healer could possibly be at the Capital?"**

"Because you might do something reckless and dangerous again." She answered firmly, "Even if you think you can handle it, I can't. Seeing you like this is a strike at my conscience."

**"Emilia."** He addressed her by name, drawing her full attention as he placed a black ivory hand on her shoulder, **"I do not walk into battles I cannot win, and even if I did, I accept the risks. If you wish me to be careful, then I shall do so to the best of my abilities. But if I fail to uphold that, it is because the circumstances were outside my control. That is essentially what happened in the Loot House and during the incident. I thought I was going to die so I decayed my hand to protect the wand, and I unfortunately lost my composure in the forest, which let my guard down."**

Viandegroc stepped up, "In essence, Emilia, there was nothing you could have done about it. These debacles are by his own hand."

Emilia remained conflicted, unable to easily accept his words. "Still…."

"Veeery well, the matter is settled." Roswaal raised up a finger, "Ser Emurdol shall accompany you on your trip to the Royal Capital. Preparations will require about one day, so we will depart the day after tomorrow. Is this acceeeeptable?"

Emilia sighed, "I understand."

"As you command, Lord Roswaal." Rem replied.

_One day…._

Viandegroc gave Emurdol a knowing glance, and Meili's Link suddenly gave her a tinge of worry.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Meili's brow sweated endlessly, looking at the arrangement her shared room with her father had become. A thick white sheet over the surface of the bed, an assortment of sterilized surgical instruments placed near the bedside atop an ivory table, and Rem standing close by with an apron worn over a white uniform that covered her entire body protectively from bad substances, her maid uniform set aside for this moment.

"Papa, whyyyyy?" She whined, her left palm sweating as she wiggled the fingers of both her fists anxiously. "We just did one 4 days agoooo….!"

"You have and your body has long adjusted to it." Viandegroc answered in his stead, counting the instruments on the tray to see if everything needed is there. "This will be your second last operation, Niece. Once we're finished, your body can finally withstand the pressures of your most strenuous spells, _especially _Void Walk. The Souls are also going to be unable to damage your body any longer."

"Mrrrrmm….!" Meili only stamped her feet impudently, looking around the dimly-lit room stressfully. She tried one last effort, "Can this _wait_? I'm not readyyyy!"

"Niece," The Flesh Golem faced her firmly, even though he had no eyes to speak of, "You _know_ why that line of thinking is lethal. This operation is for your sakes, and your father and I've been emphasizing that every time. Do you want to be caught unprepared in a situation that your body wasn't ready for?"

"But my body can take more than last time!"

"Yes, and it's _still _not enough."

During her first operation, it was to have her original organs stabilized in her remodeled body. In her second operation, she could only suffer phantom scratches from the Souls instead of being completely manipulated by them. In her third, her body became more interconnected with her mana pool, granting her the physical power that will overpower a grown man and will continue to develop as she ages. In her fourth, she was given new organs to increase the potency of her mana and the durability of her old ones, to make sure they don't crumble from her improved system and instead adapt to it as her body grows.

Despite all that, it is still not enough? Meili couldn't believe it.

Light thuds coming from her right drew her attention, and a white hand rested on her shoulder, bringing her eyes to a warm pair of green orbs as her father knelt beside her, **"Don't worry this time, Meili, for I have created a concoction to shut down the pain just for you."**

She looked at the small bottle he had in his dark hand, containing a clear liquid. She took it in hand to look closely. She turned back to him, "It won't hurt anymore?"

He nodded earnestly, **"Not anymore."**

Another hand rested on her other shoulder, she turned to look and it's Rem, giving her a warm and assuring smile, "Don't worry, Rem shall be with you like always."

During the last two operations since Emurdol lived in the Mansion, Rem has always accompanied Meili every time, holding her hand and easing her mind from the excruciating and violating sensations with sweet nothings every time she was opened up. She could have fallen asleep, but her system is highly intuitive, fighting back any anesthetic drug given to send her body into high alert against the foreign intrusions of the instruments and keeping her awake.

She should count her blessings, Meili realized. It was worse when she only had the edges of the bone table to hold on to and a piece of ivory in her mouth to bite on back in the cave. She should be fortunate that she's in a comforting environment compared to the old one.

After moments of hesitation, she finally nodded with a whispered consent, "Okay."

Rem handed her a glass of water, "Here."

Meili took it and drank it whole before beginning to undress her maid uniform, with Rem assisting her. Once she was left only to her black undergarments, her white body bare to the air like many times prior, she knelt on the center of the sheet-covered bed and popped open the pain-relieving potion before downing it to the bottom.

Passing the empty potion to Rem's hands, who knelt in front of her with a pillow on her lap, she grew a sharp thumbnail on her brown hand and pierced the middle of her left palm, the flesh punctured but _not_ bleeding.

"It doesn't hurt." She muttered.

"As expected of Ser Emurdol!" Rem praised, looking at the pale man's direction admirably.

Reconstructing the damage flesh, leaving no scar, her skills in self-heal having improved since 3 weeks ago, Meili finally lied down on her back, her head resting on the pillow on Rem's lap. The latter taking the former's left hand tenderly and holding on tight, her other hand adjusting the face mask she wore before moving the wyrmm's silver locks away from her face to rest on her lap and petting her head, she turned to Emurdol and said the prompt, "Rem is ready, Ser Emurdol."

The father nodded, his vest and trousers undressed as his legs began reforming and extending underneath him before he hovered over the bed, his daughter's lower body under him and a number of ivory appendages moved to secure her legs against the sheets. 4 spider legs reaching over the bedside and stepping on the floors to steady himself, he lowered himself down until he practically sat on Meili's thighs.

Taking a deep breath and relaxing his nerves, recounting the times he's done this before and succeeded without any complications, he began. He received the scalpel Viandegroc held out and neared the blade to the same place he always chose as the starting point.

**"Relax."**

And the incredibly sharp blade easily cut into her pale flesh, eliciting only a short yip from Meili. She would have trembled, but instead, she only flinched once and quickly relaxed.

"It doesn't hurt." Meili muttered, a small tear of red leaking out of her closed left eye.

"Sshh." Emurdol shushed her gently, not taking his eyes away from his carefully-precise gliding of the blade.

"Don't talk, Meili." Rem told in a very mother-like voice, "Just keep your eyes closed and try to sleep."

"Hmm…"

"Sshh." Emurdol shushed her again, already finished with the second point before moving to the third point, connecting the two horizontal lines on Meili's abdomen together in the middle vertically. Bony retractors growing out of his black ivory legs, they pried the entrance open gently and carefully.

Seeing all of her unnaturally-colored and partially distorted organs along with the inhuman ones he added in the same places he had left them, interconnected to her body as if she had them all her life, he put his consciousness under the influence of Emotion Suppression and went on to the next step.

For the whole three and a half hours of operation, the atmosphere was completely stiff and heavy, total concentration filling Emurdol and Rem's minds. Viandegroc didn't need to keep himself focused. As a Flesh Golem with instructions, he is completely single-minded to the task before him as if it was the only thing he has.

No words were exchanged, speaking kept to a minimum except for Rem when she has to verbally assure Meili whenever she's feeling stressed. Emurdol and Viandegroc don't have to speak to each other while they worked. They share the same line of thinking, anyway. And the wyrmm was very still, silently weeping but silent the whole time, making the procedure without complications.

When the aftermath was reached, with Meili now receiving a new organ that was connected to her stomach and intestines, having the added benefit to empower the function of the membrane coating all of her bones, with a few modifications to her lung, heart, liver, kidney, pancreas, as well as her still-developing reproductive system, her body can finally withstand immense pressure from the casting of magic once it finally adjusts.

The dimly-lit room glowing in a shade of green thanks to the energy brewing in Emurdol's hands, the opening on Meili's abdomen began closing, the cleanly-cut flesh reconnecting back together like clay, his skills of Reconstruction having improved since the Shade's release.

Throughout the operation, she _never _bled.

When the red lines were nonexistent, he placed his left hand above her belly button and sent a large clump of mana across her form, quickening the stabilization of her body with the new organ. Her system would naturally rebel against the foreign element, but if he can temporarily shut down the defense mechanisms of her body, she will be back into shape in no time. Since she carried his blood, something he could manipulate like an arm, it couldn't get any easier.

"It's over." Viandegroc announced, stepping away from the bedside as Mother walked over with a basin full of water, which Emurdol washed his hands on. "You can now relax, Rem."

The maid let out a relieved sigh, her back slumping over as she removed her sweaty grip on Meili's left hand to stretch the muscles of her fingers. As she wiped her damp brow and neck with a handkerchief, she turned to the wyrmm that was still lying down with her eyes closed, "Meili, it's over. You can open your eyes now."

The little one didn't respond, unmoving and still. Not a sight of breathing or the sensation of a heartbeat present. But Rem wasn't worried. These signs were normal for the Necromagi family, and the fact that the two brothers aren't panicking means that the operation was a complete success. "Rem thinks she fell asleep." She announced, removing her face mask.

"That would be the best for her." Viandegroc told, standing close to the wall, completely naked during the entirety of the effort, his robes placed on a chair and leaving his multi-armed physique that was completely blank of bodily detail able to assist in the procedure with uncanny dexterity. "She deserves it."

"Yes. I thank you for your efforts on Meili's behalf, Master Viandegroc and Ser Emurdol."

"Mm." The Flesh Golem nodded, the black knife merged to his chest hidden behind his crossed arms while his other appendages sunk back into his average-build form.

Emurdol, now finished with washing his hands and face, dried himself with a towel before approaching the kneeling Rem on the bed with the sleeping Meili still resting her head atop her lap, leaning forward with a skeleton hand on the bed supporting his form and drawing the maid's face close to his own with his other hand to her cheek. **"Thank you for helping us again, Rem. I appreciate it the most."**

Rem nodded happily, a blush developing on her cheeks, "Glad to be of help, Ser Emurdol."

And he kissed her on the cheek, nearly touching the corner of her lips.

Before he was midway with his kiss, Rem's hand suddenly held the back of his head and held him closer, deepening the intimacy, his lips staying on her soft cheek and relishing every bit of it.

After ten seconds, Rem reluctantly let him go, parting with a pop and leaving the smitten maid red-faced and smiling shyly. The way the pale man's glowing green eyes were glazed over told her that he enjoyed that as much as she did.

Scooping up Meili in his arms and lifting her up, with Rem quickly getting off the bed and taking the chair that was placed nearby by Mother, rubbing her stiff and blood-deprived knees, Viandegroc pulled the used thick white sheet off the surface and moved the blanket away before Emurdol set his daughter down again, her head resting on the pillows.

Sat on the edge of the bed, Emurdol had his highly-sophisticated prosthetics removed like the flick of a switch, taking off the arsenal components that were hidden in the frame of the 'sleeves' and leaving only the base with him; femurs, kneecaps and lower leg bones that ended in dull spikes.

Since receiving this gift from Mother, he had the base of the prosthetics _merged _into the stump of his thighs and connected to the stub of his halved thigh bones inside with a clamp-system. It made the 'sleeve bones' easier to equip, and replaceable in times of necessity. It was a long operation, requiring more than four hours of effort, but he managed it with the results working as intended.

Leaving the prosthetic sleeves stood up on the floor like a pair of thigh-high boots made of black bone, he slowly lied down beside Meili, a pillow under his head, pulled his daughter close to give her the cuddles she enjoyed so much, even if she's asleep.

Her little head resting on his upper arm, his other arm lying atop her waist as it embraced her, her bare skin meeting his own, he slowly infused his mana to her pool. Aside from refilling the reserves she used up from her blood magic to prevent bleeding, it will also quicken her body's adaptation to the changes, allowing her to wake up tomorrow like usual, as if she had never went through the procedure in the first place.

To the eyes of any other Necromagus from Pandemonium, this would have been very reminiscent of a father feeding his needy babe's essential doses of mana that she couldn't drain on her own due to being fresh out of birth a month ago. And it practically _is_, since Meili was just back from the dead a month ago, which can be otherwise called as being 'Born again'. Just the mere sight of it would incite the desire for parenthood to any skilled Priest of the Serpent, the desire to experience the joy of family and the act of giving love.

His eyes slowly closed, sleep quickly overcoming him while his body continued to feed his daughter mana in his arms. _I feel blessed_. Love never felt so supreme, and he's glad he found it.

Viandegroc and Mother moved to pull the blanket over their forms, covering them from the shoulder down and granting them warmth in slumber. The Flesh Golem moved to place a hand on the seated Rem's shoulder, "Drink water, take a bath, and drink herbal tea when you leave, Rem."

The smiling maid nodded, "Rem shall do that, Master Viandegroc."

Patting her shoulder twice, he left the room with Mother, carrying the used sheets to be taken to the laundry as they left Rem alone with the sleeping pair. And she stared. Stared at their beautiful sleeping faces, especially Emurdol.

She never gets tired of looking at him whenever he's like this. The creases of his brow aren't pronounced in deep thought. He isn't focused too strongly to the point of stress on one of his projects. He isn't going through the motions of what's in front of him because he has to. He isn't hiding his emotions behind his defensive visage. He's not smirking cruelly due to a morbid prank in mind. He isn't also looking over certain places around him as if he was looking for a hidden enemy. He's simply at peace, unconcerned with anything in the world while his daughter slept contently in his arms.

It's an interval where he truly looked like a _normal_ human, as opposed to the conflicted man that's hanging on to the chain that held his reason to go on living on the other end.

The blood in her legs returned, the paresthesia disappearing minutes ago, she stood up primly and leaned forward, her lips hovering over their sweet sleeping faces. Carefully as to not wake them up, her thumb and finger delicately pinched the edge of the blanket and pulled it a little higher to cover their shoulders. Afterwards, she gave each of their cheeks loving kisses. Repayment of what the two gave her today, taking them as energy boosts to work extra hard.

"Sweet dreams, Meili, Ser Emurdol."

With a bright and beautiful smile that never left her face, she exited the room without the slightest sound made, even as she closed the door.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"I'm proud, Mama."

The tall woman of pure white dressed in the traditional robes of the Order of the Serpent turned around to face the person speaking to her, a look of inquiry in her serene features.

Viandegroc had a slight smile on his face as he addressed the Queen of Ivory, "You gave the Maid a chair without any prompt from me _or _Brother. You're beginning to show empathy."

"A wonderful growth that the Mighty King witnessed." Lucifer praised without the inhibitions of his arrogance.

"Her time in Greed's domain is finally yielding its rewards…." Sally announced in soft triumph, the genuine smile of pride on her face amplifying her sinful beauty by a thousandfold.

"And we have but one person to thank for all this rejoicing." William mentioned, kneeling reverently to Bartholomew.

The young noble himself, the former Corruption of Envy, didn't take pleasure in the credit, only bowing meekly. Since they are in the court, there wasn't room for faux humility. Such a thing he didn't experience in his living life.

"Do not be humble…." Sally was quick to give the reward, her vapors pulling the young man towards her direction and quickly took his lips to her own the sooner he was in reach, giving him a deep kiss. There was no thrill nor excitement to feel from the intimacy, since he never knew them in his living life, but the thought was what mattered, such is the workings of the Court.

"Looks like somebody's getting bedded in Greed's domain." Viandegroc commented factually, no tease or hint of insinuation in his tone. Knowing the Marchioness, it is _inevitable _whenever she is pleased with somebody's performance.

"A reward well-deserved, as I have seen him as nothing but furniture till now." Lucifer agreed, his genuine approval filling the entirety of the Court that every single member could feel it as if it was their own.

"Then this Lowly Servant shall keep their matters private and safe from wandering eyes in the Domain." The Valet offered, helpful as always. He stepped forward to the two, who now parted their lips. The look on Bartholomew's face didn't change from its usual neutral state, but the Marchioness is eager to change that, her eyes glazed over. "Shall we go?"

"Let us go." Sally prompted and vanished with Bartholomew right after, William disappearing close behind.

Noting their leave, Viandegroc turned to the members remaining. "Now, unto other pressing matters."

"Regarding the boy." Lucifer mentioned, drawing the full attention of Mother, who straightened her back as she knelt on the floors of the Underground City. "He still carries our remnants in the Void."

"The good thing…is that he isn't carrying my dagger or the head as much anymore." Viandegroc couldn't hold on to that hope for long, however. "Still, that doesn't mean he won't leave it in the Mansion the day after tomorrow and I can understand why. We can't be too careful. Pandemonium or not, we _will _have enemies."

The Mighty King let out a deep rumble from his throat, the displeasure showing on his lion-like face, "I carry my doubts on whether what the boy said to the Half-elf is even his own words or what the harlot would direct."

"There's also the mask. He can't seem to let go of it, even when he doesn't _need _it. I mean, has he even _wore _it once?" The former Corruption of Lust bit on his thumb, worry crossing his youthful features, "It is going to overshadow his benevolent nature."

"Overshadowing or not, it is still an unfortunate necessity." The Mighty King wrenched his battle axe off the tiles and swung it sideways, sending a powerful gust of wind in the east direction, shaking the walls of his throne room. "My thoughts are burdened with concern."

"My son…."

The men were instantly silent and still like statues, throwing away the main topic they were discussing to the side in order to listen to the kneeling woman suddenly _speaking_, turning all of their undivided attention solely to her.

"….my son, a shapelesssss and formlesssss thing…...mold-ed and made by daughter and maid-love…."

They both clenched their fists at what she's implying, but said nothing, paying extremely close attention for the next words to be said.

"Repair not, hopelesssss to do…..remake and create shall do…..ahead is light and back is dark…..see for growth than scour for scrapsssss…."

Then their eyes widened.

"His love is guide…..love for maid and child, guide for growth…...them be valued and protect-ed…..for my sssson….."

…..

…...…...

…...…...…...

When it was certain that she has nothing more to say, an eternity likely passing in their patience, they turned to face each other's shocked visages. Just when they thought empathy and control of her old power was all she regrew, they thought wrong. And it wasn't even certain whether it was retained from a remnant of her former Life or they owe Bartholomew more than he deserved for his efforts to help Mother back to her feet to the best of his abilities.

"Wisdom is not taught…." Viandegroc muttered, "….it is earned…."

"And Souls cannot learn any more than what they have left…." Lucifer added, his voice a soft rumble. "….she is truly the Mother of the boy who slew the Mighty King…."

Mother had somehow found a way to acquire such a thing without learning _anything_, and that was something they have never heard of happening before. She's not even connected to her son the same way the others were through the wand. Even Emurdol could not do the same without relying on Emurdol's experiences in his Living Life to acquire such wisdom.

"Let us head to Greed's domain." The Mighty King was the first to suggest it before he could, sitting down on his throne and planting his axe to the indented tiles again. "These thoughts have to be acknowledged rightly."

And he disappeared.

Viandegroc turned around and took Mother's hands into his own, pulling her up to her feet before taking her with him to the false world that was Greed's castle, bringing back the sensation of Life into their entire being.

And the shock was inconceivable when it finally struck his Living mind.

Mother held him by the shoulders as he was about to fall on his back, holding his head that was weighed down by the realization he discovered. As an afterthought, he shot Echidna, who noticed his arrival and turned to his direction, a venomous glare.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Two mornings after the arrival of the emissary, with Meili's body now adapted to her conditioning and feeling nothing out of the ordinary after waking up yesterday, Emurdol's fascinations are brimming again, reservedly beaming at what's resting at the bottom of the stairs outside the mansion entrance.

_What a beautiful creature._

The large carriage parked and waiting for its passengers before him, the dragon drawn to it was far bulkier and muscular compared to the one he saw yesterday. It could have been mistaken for a dangerous beast or even a beast of war, especially when its yellow reptilian eyes show neutral dislike towards him, but the fact that it is domesticated increased even his admiration for the creature even more.

It stoked his desire to own one for himself and his daughter.

Meili giggled at the look of childlike fascination on his face, "Look at your face, Papaa."

"Ser Emurdol is quite cute when he's excited, isn't he?" Rem added, enjoying the sight of the pale man gazing at the creature as if it was a zoo animal.

He turned to face Rem, **"You are the one driving, yes?"**

The maid nodded, "Yes, Ser Emurdol. Is something wrong?"

Emurdol beckoned Meili over, and she quickly stood to his side, holding his armored right hand. He turned back to Rem, **"My daughter and I would like to sit on the box seat with you, would that be okay?"**

Her gasp was magnificent, as if she had wanted the same thing as well and couldn't wait for it, "Yes! That would be lovely! Rem will be very happy if you do!"

**"Then let us get stationed already." **He went to the carriage with Meili, and the latter quickly took Rem's hand, leading her along.

"You're quite enthusiastic for the trip, aren't you, Emurdol?" Emilia commented, as she followed after three.

The wyrmm giggled, looking over her shoulder to face the half-elf, "Riiight?"

Stood beside the high-standing box seat after Rem loaded the luggage with some help, Emurdol gestured with a hand, **"Ladies first, Rem."**

"Thank you, Ser Emurdol." Rem thanked, giving a short bow before hopping up to the seat quite easily and gracefully, not unlike how Wilhelm did.

**"Your turn." **He suddenly held Meili under the arms from behind and lifted her off the ground as if she weighed no more than a pillow. **"Catch her, Rem."**

And he tossed his daughter upwards, the latter yelping in delighted surprise before the maid caught her under the arms as well. "Got you, Meili." Twisting around and placing the little one on the right side of the seat, the wyrmm gave her arm a thanking squeeze.

"And you are late." Viandegroc remarked, turning around to face Roswaal as he arrived later with Ram by his side, his happy kitty mask being the complete opposite of what's really within.

"I beg your pardooons." The lord raised up an apologizing hand, "You see, with Ram staying behind, we're going to be apart for a little while, noo? That is whyyy, I simply wanted to give a thoooorough farewell before our departure."

Ram straitened her hair and clothing hastily, making sure they are in complete order and nothing out of the ordinary to be seen, her face looking quite refreshed and relieved.

_Now I wonder _how _thorough was their farewells. _Emurdol couldn't keep the suggestive implications off his mind.

"So the Handicap will stay behind?" Viandegroc asked, his nickname for Ram staying ever since the second day of the incident. It was once derisive, now it's just a playful jab at her proud lacking as a maid.

"It can't be helped." Ram replied, calmly looking back at the eye slits of his kitty mask. "We can't leave the mansion unattended, and Lady Beatrice is here as well, so Ram must look after her. Truly troublesome."

"You are so typical it's still endearing." Viandegroc crossed his arms, a learned habit as a Flesh Golem. "The Little Spirit is now going to be lonely without her study mate coming over every evening for a few days."

"It should be pointed out that if Lady Beatrice were to hear that, she'd split you apart to a thousand pieces."

"And there would be a couple thousand more to spare."

With 6 people going on the trip: Emilia for her business at the Royal Selection with Roswaal coming along as her sponsor; Emurdol going for medical and other personal reasons alongside Meili; and the constructs, Viandegroc and Mother alongside Rem will come to serve and guard the entire group, Ram and Beatrice will be left at the Mansion to watch over it.

Out of Meili's mercy, she had created a few skeleton servants to act as Ram's underlings. Basically, to cover for her incompetent _ass_, as Viandegroc would put it.

The elder sister stepped up to Emurdol, who is still level with the ground as he looked down on the short maid before him, "I hope your dear daughter's creations will work as intended."

Emurdol nodded, suppressing the smirk that was threatening his lips,** "I assure you that nothing they'll ever do will turn into accidents."**

It wouldn't be presumptuous to assume that the skeletons Meili made were given built-in instructions do something ridiculous as another form of spite towards Ram, like disobeying an order 10 times or doing the complete opposite of what she said.

Not that he heard it straight from his daughter himself but it's a safe assumption.

Suddenly, Ram grabbed the collar of his robes and pulled him close. Her immaculate face suddenly taking a grim look as it neared to his own, she whispered, "Listen, you. Keep a firm grip on the reins so Rem doesn't do anything rash."

She's referring to her little sister's tendency to act without thinking. It's the same trait that led to the disaster during Emurdol's first 5 days. Ram had been the one to rein her in most at the time, but now, without her nearby, the responsibility is all left to him and his daughter.

He nodded, **"Understood."**

Shoving him back, she let out a pompous _hmph _as she walked away and ascended the stairs.

_Hmm…_

Beatrice didn't come to see them off.

It's typical of her, he knows that, but it is still quite disheartening. Meili would be sad, considering the bond between her and the Spirit has grown considerably during their shared learning regarding the contents of his daughter's Tome, even if the latter keeps denying it whenever its pointed out. Which is pretty much the reason why his daughter remained inside the Archives for a whole day yesterday, spending her time there talking to the Spirit more than she did studying the Tome.

Emurdol himself has a certain kind of relationship with her as well, either an amicably professional relationship or a professionally amicable relationship . It zigzags between the two every time they see each other. He would even join the study sessions just to spend some time with her alongside Meili in the library. Given the right time and opportunity since the last couple weeks, he's been trying to interact with her. In fact, he visited Beatrice during the evening yesterday after preparing their equipment and luggage for the trip.

_Oh._

Suddenly, his eyes caught a glimpse of Beatrice's extravagant red dress from a crack at the entrance doors. The Link must have sent what he saw to Meili's consciousness, leading her to turn her eyes to the doors and see her there as well.

"Bye, Bettyyy!" Meili stood on the box seat, waving her gloved hand enthusiastically, "I'll be back sooon!"

Emurdol gave his farewell as well, simply raising his armored hand.

Beatrice recoiled for being noticed but immediately opened the door widely, allowing her form to be seen fully. Afterwards, she gave the two a wave back, as if she was shooing them away and saying goodbye at the same time. She returned inside a moment later, finished with her personal farewells.

_Good enough._

"All _aboooaard_!" Roswaal hollered from the carriage, looking at the pale man's back from the open door, Emilia and the two constructs already seated inside with him.

Satisfied, Emurdol turned around and hopped up to the box seat with similar grace, his stilted points thudding on the floors before he sat down and put on the hood of his cloak, Rem seated to his right. "**Let us depart."**

Rem nodded and snapped the reins. The ground dragon began to move with a gentle start and pulled the carriage along. Meili knelt on the box seat, facing the mansion over the roof of the carriage and waving one last time to Ram. "Bye, Ramiii! Don't try to break my toys, okaaay!"

"If such a thing happens, Ram will simply imagine it was you."

"I love you toooo!" Meili laughed afterwards, and the ground dragon accelerated to great speeds in an instant. The mansion entrance and the maid it began to shrink as the distance grew, and just before Meili lost sight of her, Ram took the edges of her skirt and curtsied. An extraordinary conduct of farewell performed by only the best of maids.

"So Rami _does _know how to be a maaaiid?"

Reaching the dip of the road, Ram was no longer in sight so Meili sat back down and put her hood back on, hiding her face from the sun. Turning to her left, past Rem's form, her father simply leaned back and relaxed with arms crossed, enjoying the scenery passing by him at great speeds and taking minute glances to the running ground dragon pulling the vehicle along. She adopted the same posture, making sure her legs are covered by her cloak so they won't get sunburnt for this six hour trip.

For a few minutes, silence was all that passed, with the changing scenery all that was relevant. Eventually, Emurdol decided to address this strange phenomena he noticed ever since the carriage was moving.

**"Rem, I have a question."**

"Yes, Ser Emurdol?"

Unmoving like a statue, his eyes alternating to either the dragon or the scenery, he began, **"Though we are moving at great speeds, why is it that the vibrations of the carriage are practically nonexistent, especially the wind? My hair hasn't flown for even the slightest since the dragon began to move."**

"Ah." Rem took her eyes off the road for a moment to face him, "That is because of a Blessing, Ser Emurdol."

**"Kindly elaborate."**

"I'll do it!" Meili piped in.

The maid nodded with a smile, "If you would, Meili."

The wyrmm smiled as she took the role of lecturer once again, reversing their usual roles. "You know that I have a Blessing too, right, Papaa?"

**"The one that allowed you to control the witchbeasts, yes?"**

"Mm hm. All ground dragons got one tooo. It lets them escape the wind resistance. It applies to the carriage and us toooo, that's why it's not shaking so muuuch."

_Hmm. _**"Fascinating."** That explains why it was moving so fast in an instant despite the lack of a proper running start. So every dragon carries a Blessing but not all humans. That was what he heard from the Souls and Meili, learning more information regarding these unique abilities. Those born with a Blessing are aware of having it, similar to a birthmark that will stay on the skin forever.

**"Does it have limits? This dragon's Blessing?"**

"Once it is suspended, the ground dragon won't be able to activate it again for a brief period of time, therefore one must make the rest stop count." Rem answered.

**"Thank you.**" Shifting a little closer to Rem, he wrapped an armored arm around her waist and relaxed in his seat once again, his curiosities settled and satisfied.

Meili, noticing his actions, shifted closer and did the same: sliding her arm around the back of Rem's waist and holding on to the edges of Emurdol's pauldron, resting her head on the maid's shoulder.

Rem blushed and smiled contently all the way.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"You lot as well as Ser Emurdol and darling Meili look as if you are _heeeaading_ for battle, Ser Viandegroc." Roswaal commented with a smile, looking at the robed Flesh Golem and the four-armed skeleton wearing armor with the light-eating robes over it all.

"I agree." Emilia nodded, the petals of the flowers on her crown bobbing with her motion, "We aren't heading to someplace treacherous, you know."

Emurdol wore his chest plate and armor protection around his arms, with a few witchbeast bones wrapped around his torso and lining his spine. His prosthetic legs were armed with the sleeves that contained and hid every implement for murder and conflict. Underneath the protection, he wore his traditional robes and his leg shades, practically a skirt that split at the sides as well as the front and back, is worn over his dark-colored ivory legs, creating the illusion that he's wearing black trousers behind the drapes.

Meili wore her black long-sleeved button shirt and short-shorts, the same outfit she wore when she entered the Mansion the first time. She also had her belt bag with her, wrapped around her hip and containing her new knife, her wand, bags of bone dust, and a couple elixirs of antidote and healing. She wore her cloak just like her father, keeping her face hidden from the sun and from anybody that might recognize her, even if she had white hair now.

She remembered Emurdol's warnings a day before: someone might recognize her as an assassin, especially members of the Organization she deserted from, and she must be cautious whenever she can.

"Considering what we are and the things we can do, things _will _became menace." Viandegroc answered simply, unmoving since he sat down, "We dress accordingly."

"But Uncle, what if someone like a guard were to stop you and tell you to remove your mask? If they so much as see your face, they will panic."

"Not to worry," He reached up with his leather fingers to remove his kitty mask, showing his faceless visage as it began morphing, reshaping, growing hair, creating _eyes_, opening a mouth and developing teeth inside.

After a couple dozen seconds of the process, a handsome boy with flowing brown neck-length hair and dark eyes who barely went past his 14th turn was seated across Roswaal and Emilia inside the carriage. "The Flesh Golem is an expert in glamour and disguises."

"Hmmm!" Roswaal was indeed dazzled by the display, smiling jubilantly, "What a _displaaaay_!"

"You look so handsome and young." Emilia herself was amazed by his dashing looks, "But why didn't you put that on when we first met? I was reeaally terrified of you that day, you know?"

"It's simple," He crossed his legs, suddenly emoting a teasing demeanor with his face _expressing _it compared to the times he can't. "You didn't ask."

And he _laughed_. Viandegroc was _laughing._

Roswaal was as shocked as Emilia was to hear the inexpressive and robotic Flesh Golem that was Viandegroc _laugh_, but the lord was quick to be infected by his mirth, finding his answer suddenly amusing and began chuckling.

When his laughter was spent, Viandegroc continued, "If my youth isn't enough to convince certain individuals, _she _can take over."

His face morphed again, disconcertingly and unnervingly that Emilia couldn't bear to watch it a second time, especially when his eyes looked like they were _melting_. When the sounds of flesh squishing and the bones breaking and reshaping stopped, a honey-like voice said, "It is over, my dear Emilia…."

As Emilia peeked from the gaps of her fingers, she suddenly felt as if she was lost for breath.

Seated across her was the most beautiful woman she has ever seen in her life, comparable to a beautiful red rose growing out of a thorny vine. Despite having no experience in love or being attracted to anybody whatsoever, Emilia found herself enchanted by her appearance.

The first thing to grace her eyes was the long and silky hair of pure red that it was almost mistaken for rushing blood, flowing down over her left shoulder and ending to her lap. The right hand that was once a glove is no longer wearing them, instead they were the delicate fingers of a woman who never once suffered a day of work, not even the grasp of a pen except for the very ornate pipe she held classily.

The lip of the pipe taken to full lips, the woman took a light pull and idly let out the green vapors in a thin trail. High cheek bones, thin eyebrows that rested above lightless half-lidded dark-blue eyes, a flawless heart-shaped face with delicate and unmarred skin—she was a complete package of all the qualities that could easily burn the hearts of men _and _women whenever they so much as looked at her.

Emilia was speechless, a slight blush on her cheeks. Seeing her in a robe was almost like a sin for it doesn't suit her. Even Puck said his agreements on her head.

"Well, hello, my _deeaar_ Madam." Suddenly taking in a gentleman-like persona that was almost excessive that it was clear he was trying to playing around but nearly failing to, Roswaal stood up from his seat and took the lady's free hand to kiss its pristine knuckles. "It is my very privilege to have your _beeaauutiful_ self grace my eyes and it honestly pains me so to see you in an unbecoming set of wear.

She hummed pleasantly, her eyes narrowing enticingly as Roswaal released her hand and sat back down, "His point exactly…." She purred, every syllable incredibly modified to sound as if she was sending him suggestive hints even though she wasn't. "Only the heart of stone can deny meeee….."

Politely chuckling, Roswaal put a hand to his chest and inclined his head, "I hope you suffer no trouble in the Capital, Madam."

"Wh…what's your name?" Emilia, finally gathering the composure she needed to resist the charm and speak, finally asked for her name.

Taking another pull from her pipe, the vapors coming out in a thick cloud in front of her face, the pungent yet enthralling aroma easing any present stiff nerves, she replied, "You may call me Sally," She turned to face the lord through the smog of green and the lightless eyes of droopy dark blue sharpened, the impression becoming predatory, "And I will not promise you anything, my dear Lord Roswaal…."

The vapors took the form of the Demon of Gluttony's fiendish visage, staring deeply into Roswaal's eyes and hissing soundlessly at him before it escaped out the window to be taken away by the wind, leaving only the teasing smirk that grew on Sally's lips visible in sight.


	18. Forsaken Pandemonium

**_"Being in your lonesome again, my dear Lady Beatrice?"_**

_"Indeed, I suppose. It's difficult to see why it's any of your business, in fact. Shouldn't you be with your beloved daughter instead?"_

**_"Right back at you, shouldn't you be with Meili? Aren't you two close?"_**

_"Betty isn't obligated to be with your daughter. Though we share the same learnings from her Tome, that does not make her Betty's friend."_

**_"I beg to differ. So here, take this."_**

_"Using juice as bribery will not persuade Betty either, I suppose. Betty is not that simple and easy, in fact."_

**_"Silly. I'm being kind, now do you want it or not?"_**

_With a slight grumble, Beatrice took the glass of juice off his hand. Leaning against the railing of the balcony, Emurdol took a slow sip of the wine in his skeleton hand, now painted black, savoring in its aged taste. He looked up to the skies and marveled at the millions of millions of stars, the scattered parts of Vra'Ugthol since Her disintegration._

**_"I'm thankful, for giving me a few moments of your time to teach me the art of Dark Magic."_**

_"It wasn't for you." Coldly, Beatrice retorted. "It was only because Bubby insisted, nothing more, I suppose."_

**_"Either way, you deserved my thanks." _**_With a silent grunt, he vaulted over the railing and sat on it next to Beatrice, his black pointy stilts hanging down towards the ground a dozen feet below him alongside her. _

_"In your condition, you might fall to your death, I suppose."_

_Emurdol inwardly smirked at her not rejecting his presence despite the derisive tone she carried with her at most times. He's making progress with being more than just acquaintances with her. **"Not to worry, my body can repel the intoxication if I wished. And being drunk is the last thing I'd rather be in this festive night."**_

_"Normally, it'd be the opposite for other men, in fact."_

**_"Those 'other men' would make mistakes in their intoxication. I am not like 'other men'." _**_Taking a light sip of the tasty wine in his hand, he looked up to the skies again, **"Once again, the stars are truly different compared to what I'm used to."**_

_"Stars don't _change_, I suppose." Beatrice pointed out, looking to the sky as well. "From what Betty's great memory can remember, the stars haven't changed a bit, in fact. Is the wine getting into your head?"_

_Emurdol's impassive face shifted for the first time since the feast began, pursing his lips and a twinge of hesitation in his eyes. The Spirit noticed it and began to frown in question, wondering what's going through the usually unreadable Death Mage's head._

**_"Beatrice."_**

_"Mm?"_

**_"Would you care to form a minor Contract with me? Just to keep the things I will share to you this moment to yourself?"_**

_Grimaced, Beatrice sat up a little straighter and addressed him very firmly, "Now what has brought that on?"_

**_"I'm in the mood to tell you all about the anecdotes my people had regarding the stars in the sky. Though I have little amount of hobbies, recounting the names of stars to myself is one of my favorites, something I shared with my kin." _**_He looked over his shoulder to look at the others enjoying themselves in the feast: an intoxicated Emilia and Rem were cuddling very intimately; Ram was admiring the sight of the two with a drink in her head, barely intoxicated since her 5th bottle; Puck and Roswaal were engaged in amicable conversation; Meili and Viandegroc were trying out snow-creatures on the floor; and Mother simply stood by the wall, watching everything go by passively. **"Considering that you and I are the only ones without company, I might as well give us both something to pass the time. Keen to know?"**_

_Apparently, she is. If the little smile on her face and the shine of readable interest in her eyes was any indication, but it was quickly replaced by question again, "Why does this concern Betty's secrecy?"_

_With nonchalance, he told her, **"Because beyond the Great Waterfall, the stars are formed differently there."** _

_The Spirit was taken greatly aback, her eyes completely wide as she just heard something completely phenomenal about the Death Mage in front of her. She had doubt in her butterfly pupils at first, trying to see if he was joking around. After a few seconds when she realized that he is absolutely _not _joking, she could barely let out the words._

_"N-no wonder…..I suppose…."_

**_"Indeed," _**_Emurdol nodded, knowing that she is finally piecing together things she gathered about him ever since meeting him, **"No wonder, indeed."** He held out his white hand towards her, palm open and fingers splayed out, **"I simply ask that you tell no one about this."**_

_She stared at his hand, back to his face, then to the hand again. "Not even your daughter?"_

_He shrugged, **"Not to worry. She already knows."**_

_Her face slowly loosened its stiff muscles, and she let out a deep sigh before taking his hand into hers, interlocking fingers. After saying the incantation, the Contract is finally made._

_With a slight rise on the corner of his lips, Emurdol shifted closer to Beatrice and held her opposite shoulder, her nearest shoulder touching his side. "W-what are you doing, in fact?"_

**_"I cannot name these stars before us for their names are not known to me, therefore I shall show you _****my _stars instead." _**_He began surging her mana to her system, and he felt her slightly shaking in his grasp, energized by it, **"A literal Memory Walk."**_

_With a flash of his green eyes and his hand holding her shoulder brewing with great energy, Beatrice is taken away to a certain point of Life, at the day when the young Emurdol first saw the Above-World for the very first time._

_The smell of life, grass, freshness, dew, water, and ripe earth was overwhelming. The feeling of wind, grass, and earth was beyond imagination. Beatrice's borrowed eyes looked up to the sky, the eyes that had seen darkness for all of its 14 years in the world below, unable to process all these new sensations for the first time, and Vra'Ugthol greeted her with a countless salutations as Her Eye gazed upon her motherly._

_Emurdol's voice of a countless sounds took a tone that she had never heard before, strangely calming but equally unsettling, **"I bid you welcome, to the forsaken and forgiven world of Pandemonium, Beatrice."**_

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

An armored right hand sporting sharp steel on the fingertips reached up to cover a yawning mouth, revealing a red tongue and impossibly white teeth before it closed.

"Now that I noticed, Emurdol…" He turned to Emilia, wondering what she noticed about him. "I've never actually seen you yawn before. Are you sleepy or something? Do you want to go back to the lodge and call it a day for now?"

He shook his head, white locks swishing in waves, dismissing the offer as he began moving forward and took a bite out of his apple. In this world, they call them 'appas' apparently. _Ridiculous, in my opinion._

So long as they are delicious, however, then he will not care. Besides, it was nice of Emilia to cool the temperature of the fruit for him without a prompt, making it as if pulled out of the refrigerator. There was one factor about apples that he preferred over anything else, and the girl remembers. Such a good friend.

"I wish Remi could come thoouugh….." Meili muttered, finishing the last of her second apple, easily bisecting the core into several pieces with her pointy teeth and swallowing before taking out her third serving of fruit. "And she wanted to come too….busy maidyyy."

Too bad the dear maid was busy with her duties. If it wasn't for that, Rem would have been the one to be with the pair instead of Emilia. Or he and Meili could have gone on their own, separate from each other on the way, and see if she could navigate back to the lodge on her own. A training exercise in the middle of a free day where they could do as they wished. His daughter is a strong girl, thugs sending mischief her way will incur her wrath, so he isn't worried. Even if there was trouble that she could not handle, Viandegroc will be close by. As of now, the Flesh Golem is somewhere, hiding from sight and only coming out once needed.

Unfortunately, it isn't a free day, and someone who knows the streets of the Capital, even if a little, is a must. He may have been here once but his navigation over it is very lacking. Tailing Emilia during his first day on this world wasn't rewarding, considering the circumstances. At least he can track his original path back then, from the bazaar and leading to the Slums. But he doesn't know where the garrison is. Seeing Reinhard will be a priority for the day, to exercise Meili's combat ability for the first time against somebody that's not him or his creations, Viandegroc included.

Considering how that knight seemed to be _idealistically _friendly that he declared Emurdol a _friend _instantly the sooner the latter suggested it, the opportunity couldn't be wasted. A strong knight like him, powerful enough to destroy the building and what's in front of it into rubble and debris with a single sword swing, his presence _will_ be called to the Royal Selection, for security or other reasons alike.

If he doesn't find him today, that's fine. There's still armor to find, someone capable of enchanting a knife, and information gathering. He's going to be very busy with the Souls in a day later or two.

Walking through the populated streets, filled with human and _non_human persons made him feel queasy for the first time since being in this world. Beastmen; lizardmen; those with animal-like traits like beastly ears or tail on a human body; average-built; so gigantic they completely looked hostile despite doing regular things; or as ridiculously small as a _dog_—these beings were _enemies _in Pandemonium, deserving to be put to the scythe and their Souls sent to the Dragon for judgment. Walking among them as if they were no different than the regular human didn't sit right with him at the moment. Seeing the cat-like emissary two days ago alone was one thing but _so many _in sight was another. It's making him tense, bordering to the point of paranoia.

Whenever he sees one in his old world, he would not think twice about killing it unless information is to be tortured out of it. Even if it's been more than an hour now, his nerves aren't loosening at all due to the natural instinct to be on the lookout for a sneak attack in the presence of these beings.

"Tsk."

He needs to adapt to this. If he's not careful, he will become a liability to anyone associated with him the sooner his name was found out.

"I'll hold you back whenever I have to, okay, Papaaa?" Meili suddenly chimed, bringing his attention out of his ruminations and to her.

Processing her words, he found out that her Link allowed her to find out why he's being tense underneath the neutral and monotonous demeanor around him without being told about it, and she gave him assurance, granting ease in his situation.

_Hmph_. A funny thought it makes. He's entrusted with Rem's leash, _his _leash is suddenly in the hands of his daughter. He nodded her his gratitude. **"Thank you, An'k."**

"You're welcooome."

"Eh?" Emilia turned an oblivious look to the little one on her right, then to Emurdol on her left. Zigzagging a couple times, she asked, "What was that, Little Meili?"

"Papa's getting uneasy with the crooowd." She gestured to the people in front of her with her apple hand, comprising of all races, especially the nonhuman ones. With her wording, it would sound as if Emurdol didn't like crowds, even though he was okay with the people of Earlham. "It's just his issues, it'll be gooone. Ah, is that the place, Emilyyy?"

"Ah, yes it is."

Emurdol turned his eyes to the location Meili pointed at, and found himself scowling murderously, eyes glowing a bright green and his dagger-like sneer showing, doing nothing to hide his spite. There was a wall in front of him, as if a section of the city is divided. Connected to the wall was a building that served more as a gateway or checkpoint. Past that checkpoint was a place definitely called the Nobles' District. Compared to the market street or the one behind him, the District is far more glamorous. The roads, the buildings, the trees, the walls, the people—everything is made _refined_, clearly by the insane amount of money invested to appear_ superior_ to those on his side of the wall_. _Who lived at the Upper Crest and who lived beneath were immediately clear just by looking at which side you are on at this wall.

The visible divide of social class did nothing but stir his hatred. Pandemonium or not, Idiots _never _change.

_Above-Worlders and their **fucking** hierarchies._

"Emilyyy, care to do the honors?" Meili gestured with a gloved hand towards the door of the garrison, not wishing for the half-elf to notice his face, "I don't think me or Papa will look perfect knocking on their doooors."

"Oh, okay. Wait here." As she stepped up to door and was about to knock on it, it suddenly opened and a young man poked his face out, looking at Emilia in slight surprise.

"Well, well. If it isn't Lady Emilia. It isn't often that I meet an acquaintance in a place like this." The man stepped out and bowed elegantly to the half-elf, "It is nice to see you again, Lady Emilia. You haven't changed since then."

The man recognized her despite the concealing hood. The site of it made the father and daughter pair's green eyes flash brightly, but Emilia's response immediately dissuaded all tension.

"Yes, thank you. No changes in particular. I see you are also well, Julius." Her voice was polite but carrying the tinge of informality and ease as she answered, signifying that this man is safe company.

"I am honored to be remembered by you, and your beauty has only grown more, Lady Emilia." Polished in a fine mixture of gentlemanliness and soldierly-conduct, he complimented Emilia, further cementing his status as an indiscriminate individual who doesn't care about the half-elf's lineage, allowing more incentive for Emurdol to give the man a fairer treatment. He's quite handsome as well, with his tidy violet hair and elegant frame. His red and white regalia clearly denotes his status as a Royal Knight instead of a simple guardsman like the ones he's seen patrolling the regular streets. The primary indication of his rank was his sword, an ornate rapier hanging from his hip.

"Isn't it rare for a Royal Knight like you to be here at the garrison?" Emilia asked, confirming Emurdol's thoughts.

"I've come to express appreciation to the soldiers for their continued service and take the opportunity to observe the city as I go. But for now, not today. A friend of mine asked me to pay a visit, and I supposed it is good to put friends first once in a while. After all, I was able to lay my eyes upon a beautiful flower along the path."

With motions as polished as his attitude and uniform, he knelt to one knee before Emilia, grasped her hand and kissed the knuckles.

_Hmm_. So some courtesies are consistent, Emurdol mentally noted. The gesture was considered old-fashioned back in Pandemonium, and it was just recently revived in the Above-World not many years prior before he was forced to this world.

"Thank you, Julius. Forgive me for the sudden request but I would like to get in touch with the castle about a certain matter."

Julius turned to Emurdol and Meili, his eyes lingering on the bone cuirass behind the necromagus' crossed arms. "I assume this matter concerns those two as well? Could they be relatives of yours?"

_It must be the hair_. Emurdol commented mentally, with Meili nodding in agreement to him silently.

"Oh, no they aren't but yes, it concerns them as well." Emilia turned to the two, gesturing to the knight, "This is Julius Euclius, an acquaintance of mine."

Meili stepped forward, take out the bone wand strapped to her belt and had it click the rhythm of greetings as she placed it against her chest and bowed, her other arm holding the paper bag of 20 apples close to her side. Emurdol matched the beat, clapping his hands in greetings and inclining his head. "My name's Meili Sinnuldel, Ser Kniiiight. Behind me is my Papa, Emurdol Viandegroc. Pardon his silence, his speech is halted for the momeeent." She introduced, speaking in a noble's tongue as she holstered her wand.

The knight calmly marveled at her sophisticated vocabulary, responding with the same respect she had in her tone; neutral. "It is my privilege to meet you both, and I express my condolences to you and your father, Miss Meili."

Emurdol did not like the way he _almost _came off as condescending with his words. Robotically, he nodded as if to accept it but mainly for the courtesy.

Turning to Emilia, Julius said, "I shall guide you to the conference mirrors, then, Lady Emilia. Though it pains my heart to bring you into a humble place such as this, Lady Emilia."

Emurdol doesn't like him as much anymore. Such words commonly carried so much false sincerity it's so palpable to him that he could literally see it. However, this man seemed to be _genuinely _honest with his pained feelings for bringing the half-elf to the garrison.

Not something he'd see everyday. He has more encounters with liars and snobbish nobles who only say those things to be polite and never out of sincerity.

"You needn't be concerned. I'm quite all right, so would you kindly?" Emilia requested again.

"Very well, come in."

With that, Julius went back inside the building.

"Emilyyy! We'll wait outside, okayyy?" Meili warned, already backing away from the garrison doors.

Emilia nodded, entering the door and leaving the two to themselves.

He turned to his daughter, patting her shoulder with his armored hand. **"Wise move."**

Meili giggled, leaning her head against his wrist, "I don't want anybody inside to recognize me anyway, even with my hair white."

She's maintaining her caution, and he's proud of that. He turned around and headed to an alley, to get away from the sun. Meili quickly followed beside him, satisfied with her appetite and not taking another apple from the bag as she held his armored left hand.

Then she suddenly called out, "Papa."

His Link giving him the urge to look to the right, his eyes found a woman wearing a dress of pure red going to a back alley, led by shady-looking characters.

Whoever those characters might be, they had the _balls _to do their business in front of the garrison if they happened to be thugs or rapists. However, it happened in a garrison's blind spot. There was no way they could have been noticed. If there was any reason for them to be noticed, even without Meili's enhanced eyesight, it was because of the color red of that dress seeming to sear into anyone's eyes, even if glanced.

"Wanna check it oout?" Meili suggested.

**"I'd like to."** His reply was instantaneous, finding himself in the mood to commit mild violence against another person once again, but he quickly held the urge down, not needing Emotion Suppression to do so. **"But you told the Dear Girl that we would wait here."**

"Then how about _I_ gooo?"

He turned to his daughter, raising an eyebrow in awe, **"Are you sure? Can you handle it?"**

"Yeah!" She immediately affirmed, excited to have a moment to exert her independence. "You're planning to get me lost in the Capital anyway so why nooot?"

He found himself nodding in agreement, just a bit surprised. So she found out his motives through the Link. No matter, he had confidence that she'll find her way back anyway. Her training could cover for such an issue. He's just giving her an opportunity to do whatever she liked in the Capital, to either explore or buy something she liked before coming back. Life in the Mansion must have been a little dull for her by now.

**"You have to keep three things in mind."**

"Uh huh?"

**"Do not use your spells. Do not remove your glove. If you feel forced to use magic, call for the Idiot." **

Not once did Meili ever hear her father address Viandegroc by any other name besides 'Idiot'. The grudge he held against him for releasing the Shade still hung on to this day. Even if the decay on his body is removed or healed, would Emurdol still forgive him then?

She's not certain of it, but that's none of her concern.

"Basically, don't draw attention." She summarized, earning a nod from Emurdol. "Okay, you hold this nooow." She put the bag of apples to his hands and gave him a quick kiss to his cheek before heading out into the closest alley. "Gotta goooo."

**"Take care, An'k."**

"I knooow. Love you, Papaaa." With that finished, Meili's form suddenly disappeared in a blur, perfectly performing a dash that she couldn't do weeks ago. Looking up, he found his daughter lifting herself up the edge of the roof and slickly disappearing out of sight like a daylight ghost. Without even trying, her body is moving in a certain grace only Priestesses of the Serpent could do.

She's growing up. Her ordaining may be sooner than expected. Would her attitude fit the criteria by then, however?

But these questions are not for today. For now, he's going to wait at the corner of an alley and see if Emilia's got ahold of Reinhardt through whatever means were possible to contact somebody from faraway. Conference mirrors, yes? It could be like the ones in the laboratories owned by magi and wizards back in Pandemonium, contacting Kings or other magicians easily by turning the mirror into a visual portal, transmitting sound and sight.

A few minutes after waiting, he heard the rustling of metal trash bins, and his green eyes turned to look. He saw a blatantly suspicious-looking man lifting up the lids and looking down inside of them, as if expecting to find gold or a person in there.

A shiny black knight helmet with a red ponytail worn over the head, a rugged capelet hiding the shoulders, an open vest showing well-built muscles, simple leather pants and sandals. His attire is quite disorganized, as if they were all he had, and with the broadsword horizontally placed and sheathed on the back of his belt, he completely filled the image of a bandit. Emurdol questioned how this man was not questioned or arrested already.

What he wondered more, however, was how this man lost a whole left arm.

He could hear the man singing a tune despite how his 20 meter distance, not caring about the rhythm or melody, clearly taking his time in whatever the hell he's doing.

"Duh-dum, duh-dum, tuh-duh-duh-duh-duh. Duh-dum, duh-dum, tuh-duh-duh-duh-duh."

Emurdol's blood suddenly froze, his breath turning still and his eyes widened in complete horror. The pattern of the riff, the melody itself….it couldn't be possible. There's no way…

_…..I _know_ that song._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"I see, so yer associated to that white guy from a month ago?" The old Giant stated, scratching his large rugged chin with his thick fingers.

"I'm his brother, actually. It's my pleasure, Mr. Rom." The handsome boy held out a small hand to Rom, his wide sleeves hanging off his slim arm, and the latter's bigger own practically smushed the former's as he took it, shaking it up and down in a gentle fashion. "How come you here in the Capital?"

"I was gonna ask ya same." Rom retorted, sitting on the ground and folding his legs, "What'sa relative of that guy doing here? Ergh, Viandegroc, right?"

The flesh golem nodded, "To accompany him in his business. In your case, if I were to hazard a guess, you are looking for the Little One named Felt, aren't you?"

"Then I don' need to ask ya." Rom nodded, "Yeah, I am. D'ya know where my granddaughter went runnin' off to? It's been a _month._"

"I see you aren't informed." Viandegroc emoted a frown on his face, the thousands of compacted flesh contorting to express inquiry, "But how could you not? You were left in Ser Reinhardt's care, last I've heard from the white elf."

"Meh. I ran outta the garrison the sooner I could stand up, not that I'm not thankin' their healing me though…anyway, where'd she go?"

"Under Ser Reinhardt's care and custody, though even I do not know the reasons why he did what he did." He informed, motionless but keeping his face mobile, from eye-blink to facial cheek muscles, making sure it doesn't look unnatural but completely human-like in the process. "Beyond that, I know nothing more."

Rom sighed heavily, scratching his bald head and looking at a direction where the Royal Castle would be seen from a high vantage point. "But….the House of Astrea….of all things…."

"If it's any assurance to you, my Brother could possibly be speaking with Ser Reinhardt this very moment. I'm very certain he will inquire about Felt." He leaned forward, placing a hand on Rom's gigantic shoulder, making the size of his hand very infantile in comparison to the Giant before him, "I will relay your concerns to him, and I shall inform you on whatever information Brother has received about your dear granddaughter."

"Can I trust ya though?" Rom quirked an eyebrow in caution and question, "Too good t'be true, what yer tellin' me here."

"My Brother is benevolent, and I perform his will. Whether he speaks it or not, he would tell you whatever news he got from Ser Reinhardt." Patting him once in the shoulder, Viandegroc let him go and leaned back upright, "He has a soft spot for those who would give all that they have for their family, related or not. The choice to believe me or not is up to you."

Rom stared, his creases deepening as he looked closely for any signs of a deceit. Eventually, the hope in the old Giant's eyes practically lit up, as his expressions began to lighten and regarded the flesh golem differently now, "For a young'n, yer quite mature for yer looks."

"If that is a compliment, then I shall accept."

"But still, thanks." Wistfully, his eyes went downward, "I care so much for that girl…I couldn't thank ya enough for that. I'll pay ya back with what I can, I swear."

"Reward my Brother, not me." Viandegroc performed a courteous bow, "Once I am notified, how can I contact you?"

"Right…." Rom rubbed his chin in thought for a few moments before having an idea, "There's a fruit vendor in the market named Cadmon. Tell'm my name and he'll know what to do."

"What a coincidence. That's the same person my Brother and his daughter had bought apples from."

"_Apples_?" The Giant wore a weird look over the terminology used, "Don't ya mean Appas?"

"UUUNCLLLLLEEEE!" A shrill call came from the run-down street, bringing Rom's attention to the owner, completely missing the way Viandegroc's head completely turned a complete 110 degrees to the right that a normal human neck would have snapped from it before he righted his posture to look convincing. "I'M IN TROUUUBLLLLEEE!"

"Such a bothersome caterwauling thee maketh, beest silent, whelp. It vexes mine own ears."

Here was Meili running over to him at top speeds, entering through the gap between buildings and into the narrow alley where Rom and Viandegroc were, her hood down, her white hair suddenly free of its braid and holding a very bewitching woman's hand as she ran, the former amazingly catching up to the little one despite the extravagant dress and the heels she wore.

If Viandegroc had a human mind, he would have gawked at the intense amount of beauty the woman had. She had brilliant orange hair, almost as if the sun had dyed her locks itself. Her red eyes were defiant and fierce, and her skin was as white as snow, partially comparable to Emurdol's, Meili's or even Emilia's. Her pure red dress looked incredibly magnificent, clashing against the decrepit environment around them, and the jewelry she had on her neck, ears and fingers looked as if they will cost five times more than everything a simple man has ever owned in his house.

The kind of beauty she had was otherworldly, something only the Corruption of Gluttony could ever match against. While Sally was built like honey, to lure and entice all who gaze upon her, this woman was a poisonous flower, beautiful but clearly best unapproached when knowing better.

Still, Flesh Golem's do not have fleshly desires, so Viandegroc gave her only a glance, regarding her as a simple entity, and turned to Meili with arms crossed, "What have you done, Niece?"

"Buncha bad guys!" She quickly informed, and Viandegroc knew the rest from there straightaway. "I was gonna handle 'em myself but Papa didn't let me use magic, and I didn't wanna hit them since it'd cause attention so I tried to get them confused with the Ghosties and ran outta there with this lady the sooner they were distracted."

"Those peasants wouldst not giveth up." The lady in red added boredly, crossing her arms under her bountiful breast, showing a bountiful amount of skin on her shoulders and cleavage from her dress, "Tenacious, I might sayeth myself, but none less significant than a bunch of rabid hounds."

Meili looked behind her, expecting a group of angry men with sticks and knives to come out at any moment. She turned to Viandegroc, "Can you deal with them, Uncle? I don't think I can beat them without magic on my own."

"If I do, that will only draw even more attention than those of just scum."

"Hide this way then, quick!" Rom indicated to a pile of wood scraps, meager by appearance but effective enough to be ignored immediately, and it's big enough to fit her and the woman in red. "I'll keep 'em off ya."

Forcefully, Meili pulled the woman into the indicated spot, clamping her mouth with her gloved hand and shoving her in before getting herself inside. She's highly visible with the opening in direct line of sight in the path where the thugs would pass by. "Um, I think I'm exposed here!"

"I'll hide ya with my body, but be quiet." Rom quickly squatted down in front of the hiding spot's opening, his large frame serving as a good cover. With the way it looked from Viandegroc's point of view, it is very convincing.

The Flesh Golem quickly crawled up the walls and to the rooftops like a lizard, creeping out the Giant who watched it all before the gang was heard coming, their raucous footsteps and angry shouting getting closer and closer. Coming out of the gap in-between the buildings, the leader of the group eyed Rom distastefully. "Thought it was the brats but it's just you, old man!"

"What'd you want?" That simple inquiry alone without any added incentive from Rom sounded as if an aggravated bear was the one asking, and it made the group's eyes widen and took a slight step back.

One of the punks, however, pointed at the old Giant and jeered, "Hey, it's Gramps Cromwell, should ya really be talkin' smack to us here?"

Viandegroc, perched from the edge of the roof, looked down on the thugs like an eagle spotting a horde of trapped rabbits, his handsome features morphing into an inhuman quality of calm that it could be considered unnatural, eyeing the person most likely to lash out to violence at the given opportunity to do so, readying his fist to pound the bastard's face straight to the ground upon descending down like a rock.

"Don't call me by that name, I'll send ya flyin'."

"Bugger off, old man, or we'll trash that house of yours and make ya a laughingstock of the slums."

"Actually, the place is turning into a pile'a shit over the years. Ya'd be doin' me a favor so I'll just sit here."

Immediately defeated, the thug switched topics, "Fine. Ya see two brats runnin' this way?"

"Didn't see 'em. Do _you _know where my blond daughter is?"

"The hell do I know? Ya picked her off the street so what's it to ya? Yer going senile, old man!" The group of thugs went away, laughing derisively at the old Giant. Rom held himself and his anger back, biting his lip and stiffening his crossed arms.

His head following after their leaving forms, never leaving his perch until they were truly gone, Viandegroc pitched himself off the edge and fell headfirst towards the ground, only to flip and land soundlessly on his feet as he touched the stony floors, puffing up a cloud of dust in the process.

"Hoo! That was close! Thanks, Old Man!" Meili stepped out of the hiding spot and hugged Rom's massive arm before running over to Viandegroc, smacking herself against his waist, her arms wrapped around him. The latter moved to pat her back and head, easing her nerves if she were rattled. She looked up to his handsome face, looking fresh from something exciting instead of something harrowing like nearly getting caught by unkind men. "Am I glad to see yoouu."

"And I assume your idea of getting lost is finding trouble then." Viandegroc knew the original plan of the day Emurdol had for Meili, equally sharing his optimism for the little one to find her way back, but this is beyond what was expected. "Drawing attention is _not _our way. Our magic is a natural taboo to society, have we not taught you about this?"

Meili squeezed Viandegroc's waist fiercely, and it would have crushed his pelvis if he had one in the first place, "I know thaaat! It's just a buncha bad guys and rapists so nobody's gonna believe theeeem, and I got Papa's permission. Just no magic and no changing my hand, and run if I can't handle iiiit."

"I seeth thou art speaking to this young man v'ry intimately." The woman in red stepped up to the pair, ignoring Rom behind her, "What be his name? Answer."

Closing her eyes, suppressing the irritation that's been brewing up ever since she found out the kind of personality she had, Meili opened her eyes again and gestured to the robed boy, "It's my Uncle. We're close, and my Papa's his brotheeer."

The woman in red hummed, her mouth covered by her ornate fan as she regarded Viandegroc very sharply. Then, she snapped her fan close and pointed it at the flesh golem, "Thee and thy uncle has't charm unlike most of the ingraft'rs I've ev'r did lay mine own eyes on. Rejoice and revel, f'r mine own praise isn't simply given."

The Flesh Golem emoted a raised eyebrow, "You speak as if the world revolves around you—"

"And it does. This world is built to mine convenience. Nothing occurs that is not to mine own benefit. 'tis from mine own will that nothing hath befallen me or thee, whelp, so thy gratitude shall become thy debt to me."

…..

…...…..

…...…..…..

Everything without a hint of irony or doubt, as if it was obvious, irrefutable, undebatable, unquestionable, and absolute, completely speaking as if it were common sense—she completely _believes _everything she just said.

Viandegroc was glad that Meili didn't try to retaliate against those thugs with her physical power, only presenting herself under the persona of a simple daddy's girl, one that could run faster than a grown adult, apparently.

Viandegroc was well-versed with Madness, thanks to his company in the Court, but he's also familiar with the face of Greed and Arrogance. Whoever this woman is, she cannot be handled carelessly lest dreadful consequences befall him or anyone else associated to him. Any other human or nonhuman and Viandegroc will not be merciful with shoving reality down anyone's throats….but not this one. Even he knows that Emurdol will be very careful in handling this image of Arrogance.

If this had been Pandemonium or Emurdol was uninvolved with anyone in this world, the freedom to take this girl's head would have been handed over to anyone with the balls to do so. Viandegroc would have taken it without a second wasted. She'd make a fine addition to the Court, and her flesh would look beautiful on Mother's new body.

Turning to Rom, who was silent the whole time, Viandegroc said his farewells, "I will be seeing you again, Rom. I'll relay whatever information I have about Felt to you as soon as I can."

"Thanks." The old Giant nodded, rising to his feet, "Remember, it's Cadmon the Fruit Vendor." He turned to Meili, "Ya be careful, Missy. Might not be around to help ya a second time if ya rile up those boys again."

And with that, Rom walked away with his every light step a stomp.

Turning to Meili, her left hand still clutching his robes, he held her cheek with his leather-covered hand to face him, "Can you find your way back?"

She nodded, the light of her olive green eyes now dull from the influence of Emotion Suppression. She had the urge to give the woman a piece of her mind and she stopped herself from doing so, aware of the consequences if she dared let herself fall to her irritation. A smart thing to do.

"Then go." He gestured to the direction where Emurdol was, pointing directly at a wall, and past many, many layers from there, her father and Emilia will be right there in the entrance of the alley she entered from, waiting. "Brother is waiting."

Nodding one more time, she pulled him close to give him her obligatory kiss on the cheek and began walking away, unhurried in her speed as she pulled her hood up. Pulling his own hood over his head as well and putting on his kitty mask, Viandegroc glided away around the corner, disappearing from sight, leaving only the woman in red watching him go before she walked after the little one.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Whoa….man, that is…really? I mean…last time, I was just goin' to school like usual back in my world. Does time move differently there or something compared to here? I mean….damn. Seriously though, the _Rapture_? The _Rapture _happened while I was gone?"

This bandit-looking chap, Aldebaran or Al for short, looked quite lax and unperturbed despite hearing what could possibly be a mind-blowing fact regarding the world he came from. Or the world Pandemonium _used _to be.

Emurdol slightly tilted his head in wonder, **"You don't seem quite shocked as I expect you to be."**

"Hey, man." Al waved it off with his only hand, "After 18 years in this world, I don't think much's gonna surprise me anymore, you know?"

**"18 years, hm?" **A pronounced frown made its way to Emurdol's face. 18 years is far too short a time. How could this be? **"The Rapture happened many, many Millennia ago. The Old World is dead, gone forever. Earth is no longer Earth. The Planet has grown bigger than before and there's still more territory to be explored and charted down before I was brought to this world."**

"Well, I thought Earth was bigger already but _damn_." He rested the cheek of his black helm on his fist, "Ya guys still didn't chart everything after a thousand years? Must be a hell of an adventure to whoever's gutsy enough to do it."

Emurdol inwardly smirked. The Order of the Serpent has explored many, many parts of the uncharted places in Pandemonium that the Above-World could barely hope to match the feats. Even he himself went further and further down into more dangerous territory, killing any monstrosity that came his way while he searched for good materials besides bones and flesh.

Does the Above-World need the maps the Order has made over the years? _No. _

"What about skyscrapers and electricity? Modern tech? They all gone too?"

Emurdol nodded, feeling nostalgic to hear those words once again, **"Hell and its Demons destroyed everything of the Old World. The only thing that never changed were the Stars. This modern technology and electricity you speak of is but a thing of the Past."**

"Buuut….considerin' ya recognize the tune of _Sorcerer's Apprentice_, I think some songs managed to stay alive, didn't it?"

**"It _recurred_, actually. It was theorized by many that memories of the Old World were returning to the consciousness of any living generation." **He turned to Al, looking deeply into the slits of his black visor,** "The fact that you come from the Old World and know the song solidifies the theory. It isn't certain if it's either a sign of humanity healing itself or a sign that the Rapture will repeat itself. Songs were a first, but steadily, ideas and concepts of the Old World were the next to return. Good or bad, it was growing back into our minds."**

"Well…" Al turned to face Emurdol's way, leaning slightly a bit forward to look closely, "Lookin' at you, seems like things turned out fine back on Earth, didn't it?"

Emurdol nodded. Even if Idiots heavily populated the Above-World, the fact that everything remained stable despite their inherent evil nature as human beings deserves praise.

They are still idiots though, and Emurdol will never change his mind regarding that. All the _good _humans were taken up unto Heaven when the Rapture began, anyway.

**"Earth is _dead_." **The eldritch voice was very firm. The term itself is considered taboo, even in the Underground City. **"Pandemonium is its name now, the land of demons and condemned souls who do not deserve Heaven. It was but a Millennia ago when the humans usurped the World back into their hands. We killed our demons and restored the World back to Life when the Seraphim came down to grant us a second chance to go to Heaven." **

"Ah, could it be the Second Coming of Christ?" Al excitedly asked, "It's gotta be, right? I mean, if those 6 winged angels are gonna come down and say every soul in Hell's got a chance for cloudy Heaven, it has to be the case. Man, how could I miss it?"

**"It is." **Emurdol solemnly nodded,** "A large majority of the first Redeemed humans devoted themselves to a life of repentance and goodness according to the so-called 'will of God', making sure they abandon their old ways and live for the sake of good. Some chose to live by their own rules, not according to vague guides dictated by God's angels but by their own way of living without succumbing to their old ways. The rift born from it still lives on to this day."**

"Okay, and how'd that go?"

Emurdol harrumphed, contemplating how despite being pushed to the point of no hope in their history, humans _never _changed.** "Time happened. It has been a Millennia since then, and their devotion to goodness and repentance wasted away to stagnation, bringing back the mundane life that was once ripe back in the Old World. The discovery of magic created even more diversions from the straight and narrow path."**

"Then what happened to those who lived by their own rules?"

**"They created the next generations of humans that lived beneath the ground." **Emurdol unlocked the clasps of his gauntlet and removed it, revealing his black skeleton hand, **"Humans like me. We lived in a search for fulfillment and enlightenment—we lived for the sake of Living, not for the aftermath of our Death. And compared to the others who lived under the 'will of God', we _never _changed no matter how long time has passed."**

"Ah ha! Necromancers!" Al looked quite excited at the sight of his hand, and he easily deducted Emurdol's profession with just that. "Right, I gotcha! Man, I miss Diablo 2."

**"Do _not _call me a Necromancer." **The monstrous voice in Al's head got even more ferocious, and Emurdol's eyes glowed a blinding green, comparable to an Old World illumination device called a flashlight pointed at one's general direction. **"Necromancers are those who use dark magic for their own deranged reasons. A depravity of our sacred practice. _My _kind, the Order of the Serpent, are _Necromagi_. There is a _difference. _Compared to them, we practice dark magic for the sake of knowledge and growth."**

Al was silent for a bit, then his helm nodded, "Right. I gotcha. Sorry for offendin' ya, man. Didn't think people like you got a lot more structure in your profession than that."

So the Old World knows much about their kind before its birth, then? Or maybe, it was the _idea _that had grown back to the founders of the Order of the Serpent's consciousness that brought his kind to existence? He never considered that before.

"Hey, I gotta ask." Al held up a finger, friendly in speech and demeanor ever since this conversation began, "When the humans took back the world, uh Pandemonium you call it now, and they wiped out the demons of hell and all, are those monsters really gone or are there still survivors?"

Emurdol shook his head slowly.

**"They cannot truly be wiped out." **Unfortunately, that was a truth in Pandemonium's Reality, and _fortunately_, their existence maintains an assuring thought of knowing _what _is truly **Evil **and what makes a person not. **"No matter the effort, they _will_ keep coming back to existence, so every human must either learn how to fight as early as possible, or let themselves be put under the protection of Kings and Kingdoms."**

"Were there adventurers or the like to fight those monsters?"

**"Some do so for the common good, some do so for profit, some do so for research, some do so for glory, some do so for knowledge, some do so for catharsis—kinds of people would hunt down Hellspawn for their own reasons." **He will say nothing about the Supreme Sins, the Evil that grows_ inside_ humanity, not outside of them. It is the most dangerous kind where _no one _realizes what's happening until it's too late. **"Pandemonium is ripe with eccentric varieties. But compared to this world…." **Emurdol turned to look at the townsfolk walking by the entrance of the alley they sat idly by with Emilia, who listened in on the entire conversation. **"….any nonhuman existence we see is considered an enemy, considering the first instinct they have against humanity is to kill them, eat them, or rape them for procreation."**

"Damn." Al's tone didn't sound like it came with a frown, it sounded as if it meant nothing unusual to him. "You doin' alright in this world, with all the demihumans walking around like normal people, doing normal things and living normal lives?"

**"It is unusual and shocking, but I can adapt." **

"Hope you do, man." Al leaned back into the wall, shifting lightly in the stool made out of ivory he sat on, its appearance looking like a normal wooden chair painted bone-white. "By the way, you sure your kiddo found my companion?"

Emurdol tapped his head with his skeleton hand before putting on his gauntlet again, clasping the locks and straps back on, **"When it comes to her, I am rarely ever wrong. We simply wait and see what happens."**

"Um, while we do," Finally, Emilia decided to speak up, raising a hand up and pulling an apple out of the paper bag she held, "Why don't we eat some appas? We don't want to be seen by our missing companions asleep, do we?"

"Sure, I am feeling kinda hungry right now. Can I have one?"

"Help yourself." Instead of throwing it to him, Emilia stood up from her stool and approached Al, holding out the opening of the paper bag to the chap as he took out an apple with his only hand.

"Thanks, girl." Nodding to Emilia, he turned to Emurdol, lifting up the fruit in hand. "Appas, eh? They still call 'em 'apples' back home?"

**"Yes, I enjoy them."**

"Alrighty then." With an outstretched finger of his hand holding the apple, he lifted up his helm just a bit to reveal his mouth and a bit of his nose before taking a big bite out of the fruit.

And Emurdol saw _many _scars on his flesh. Whatever Al went through when he came to this world, 'past the Great Waterfall', as common knowledge seems to put it like Meili did, it did not went easily. He could have been a simple man in the Old World, not knowing anything about combat or worry, and he barely survived it. It could possibly explain the loss of his arm.

"You want some, Emurdol?" Emilia held out the bag to him.

He shook his head, **"I have enough for today."**

"Okay." She returned to her seat beside him. Compared to the two, Emurdol had his legs form four legs that stood on the ground and supported his rear, practically forming a chair. "You two got along swell."

**"I find it strange." **Emurdol began to unclasp his left gauntlet, letting his white hand feel the cool of the air before taking Emilia's right hand, interlocking fingers with her.

"Cold." The girl isn't opposed to it, merely squeezing against the cool of his arm with her own warmth.

**"Emilia."**

"Yes, Emurdol?"

**"I'm going to tell you a couple of things regarding where I come from, but I want you to make me a promise."**

The word 'promise' made her straighten her back, her grip on his hand tightening a little more, and her amethyst eyes hardened in resolve. The way she looked so determined over something so small was cute.

**"_Never_ tell this to anyone besides yourself and Puck."** For the sake of protection, this is something that must _never _be spread out carelessly. Pandemonium should _not _get involved with this world, untainted and untouched by its Evil. Curiosity will only make things worse. **"It will only be up to me to tell others about it."**

Placing the bag of apples down, she placed her left hand on his own together with the other and swore, "I promise, Emurdol. What you shall say to me will never reach the ears of others from my mouth."

Bringing her close to bump foreheads, he squeezed her two hands tightly, **"Trust." **Leaning back against the wall and releasing her hand, he began, **"In a time when the world moved on and humanity remained the same, the _Rapture_ happened."**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

She let out a sigh as she placed the last stack of boxes on the back of the carriage, wiping her forehead even though there's no sweat to begin with. "That must be all of it."

"Ah, thank you, my dear Zakurah." The elderly merchant thanked, wiping his sweaty brow with the towel hung around his neck. "I feel quite ashamed that an old man like me needs help with his packing, especially with a girl."

"Oh no," Zakurah shook her head, her braided blond hair wiggling like a snake in the motion. "It would not right for you to handle everything by yourself. I mean, you could hurt yourself."

"It's a lot more embarrassing that you can actually carry _three_ stacks of those boxes by your little self." The merchant commented with a jest tone, scratching his head that was beginning to lose its hair, "I mean, those things have _urns _in them. And I could still only carry one even if I was as young as you are."

"Please." Modestly and politely, the blond waved off the compliments, "This strength isn't my own. It's given to me by the Lord, and He could easily take it away from me, so I don't deserve the credit."

The old man only laughed, drawing a questioning frown on Zakurah's forehead, "Oh, I like you, little one. These days, modesty is decaying on people your age so it's a real breath of fresh of air." He dug into his pockets, pulled out a small pouch that jingled with the coins inside, and threw it to the blond.

Zakurah caught it without thinking, and when her mind caught up to what was happening, she began frowning again, "I…I can't. I was merely helping."

"And that deserves a reward, my dear Zakurah. No refunds." He moved to climb up to the box seat of his dragon carriage. "Kindness is lacking in this world, you know." With a grunt, he got himself to his elevated seat and cracked the reins.

In no time, the dragon carriage was far away.

"Truly, these dragons outmatch horses quite easily." She commented in awe, then looked down on the pouch of money in her hands and shook it, counting maybe 30 pieces inside from the sound. "I guess I could buy Raeburn's favorite burger with it. Maybe three, and one for me."

Stuffing it in her pockets and heading on her way, she looked up to the skies, noting that they are starting to turn orange. "It's been a month, hasn't it? Yet, I still don't know why God has brought me to this world."

She greatly envies Raeburn. He's been around in this world for more than 5 years and he's doing remarkably well in surviving it, especially in a Nation that professes the Philosophy of 'Might Makes Right' in its whole structure. Compared to her, she felt as if she has nothing left. Even with her doing anything she could to help whoever is in need, or doing whatever she can inside Raeburn's household to avoid freeloading, she still felt unfulfilled.

She took an oath, the very same one her master had took when he made the initiative to purge the corruption of the Church; to protect all that is good, stand above all temptation, and devote all of her heart and soul into the duty she has as a Holy Knight. She had devoted her life to that duty for the last 3 years ever since her master died.

Yet, once she takes a look at her surroundings, where everything is simple and quiet, no worry over a hellspawn suddenly coming out of nowhere, with all of these demihumans walking alongside humans, the very same kind she has been fighting and killing for the sake of the people who are terrorized by them, it clearly gives away the fact that she's not _needed_ here.

She sighed heavily, scratching her head. "I wonder if the other Knights ever asked themselves if the world ever needs them anymore once their duty is done, _hypothetically_. Those monsters never stop coming, not to say the Corruption too…..huh?"

She suddenly felt hostility, aimed _at _her. She found herself stop walking, her natural instincts sending her body into high alert and her hand reaching for her waist, only to realize that she left her sword at Raeburn's house, including her shield and armor. She's left only in a simple dress she had difficulty wearing at first.

This hostility has a certain tinge to it, something she didn't think would pick up again ever since coming to this world. It was very familiar.

The hostility of the _Undead_.

Her guard up, fists clenched, she raised her gaze from the ground and looked straight forward, right into lightless dark blue eyes glaring _directly _at her, the beautiful face concealed under the hood of a dark red robe.

The ornate pipe the hooded woman had in hand immediately gave her the sign that she was in complete danger, including the populace around her. Even if it's only five years and she has never seen it for herself, she cannot mistake its design for anything else, "_Gluttony…._"

Seeming to have been recognized, Gluttony pointed a finger upwards, the middle one. Zakurah looked up without moving her head, and she gasped internally before back to the diabolical woman.

There were daggers and stakes made out of green vapors floating above _every _innocent in the area, aiming directly at their heads. They are all being held hostage without even knowing it, and if she got too hasty, they'd be killed and _no one _will be able to track down the culprit since the murder weapon is made out of _smoke_.

The pedestrians passed by her and Gluttony, completely oblivious to the conflict of death glares happening between them, unaware of the precarious situation this place has become.

Gluttony looked to her right and jerked her head to the direction, indicating an alleyway before she glided her way through it, silently sending the threat: 'Follow, or they die'.

Gritting her teeth, righteous fury boiling inside her heart, she immediately made her decision. Armored or not, armed or not, she will stop this crises before any innocent lives are taken. She is a Holy Knight, sworn to protect the innocent, and today, she will fully realize her role.

Pericus didn't neglect training her in situations if she is ever caught unarmed.

Briskly, she went over to the alleyway Gluttony went into and prepared for the worst. It's clearly a trap, but walking into one is different from knowing that it's there. Besides, what she's dealing with is an Undead woman. She had her fair share of them back in Pandemonium, but one happening to be the Supreme Corruption of Gluttony who was killed years ago by the Hero of Pandemonium is a first.

Stepping into the darkness of the alley, and walking through a series of turns that sent her further and further away from the busy streets, leading her into one of the abandoned streets of the Capital where desolate and broken buildings were found, isolated from human activity. And she saw Gluttony stood in the middle of a ruin like a beautiful figure of a painting who just walked out of the frame, leering at her venomously and murderously, the lip of the pipe in-between her sharp teeth. The green vapors were forming a cloud above her head and trailing around her body like a sash.

Zakurah didn't fail to sense sharp objects pointed down on her head and behind her the sooner she was here, just like the other weapons of vapor surrounding her in a circle, from knife to axe.

With steel in her voice, the blonde demanded, "Leave the innocents out of this. This is only between you and me, Gluttony."

"Innocent…." The sharp hiss escaped out of her lips as if it were bitter, trails of green smoke seeping out through her teeth, "Innocent…..yes, _innocent….._Are they as innocent as the Holy Knights were when they razed an innocent village just for performing sacred hospitality to a Priest of the Serpent who saved their lives?"

Her hand instantly flew to the center of her chest, and a blinding white light erupted from her entire body, dissipating every green projectile that rocketed towards her form into nothing, including the aroma that could have forced her tense muscles to loosen.

Lowering her hand down from her chest, the holy rosary shining through the cloth of her blouse and her fists glowing a sanctifying yellow, she created a practical bubble of protection around her form just in time, shredding any trace of the Smoky Bull whenever it came near.

Despite the blessing she's done to purify anything around her, always reliable in instantly annihilating any undead that was ever in the vicinity with the Holy Light, Gluttony still stood as if nothing has affected her.

Zakurah squared her stance, raising her fists coated with holy energy at eye level, "Of course you still live."

"Wrong…." The Undead woman continued glaring at her, blowing out a larger cloud in front of her, creating even more implements of murder and pelting her aura of protection in vain, "…..I've been dead ever since the Death Mage who entered my chambers melted my facccce…."

The blonde stomped the ground, her leather shoes shattering the stony earth and she smoothly grabbed the biggest chunk of cement off the cracks with one hand, effortlessly whirling the stone around her in a circle before she threw it straight to Gluttony's face, flying in the speed of an arrow.

The woman jerked her pipe upwards and the green vapors gathered in front of her, the stone _shattering apart _upon meeting contact with the smoke as if it was the sturdiest walls of a fortress.

"I remember the first Holy Knight who stepped into my chambersss…..he showed me how all of you are complete _liars_ before I ate him….." Speaking in ever-so-lustful tones that is trying to break into her consciousness, forcing her to submit to temptation while the vapors continued to pepper her shield with every means of splitting her body apart, Gluttony literally did nothing else except stand still and smoke her pipe while glaring.

"Breakers of their oaths be damned." She swung her right fist sideways, clearing out the cloud that's trying to surround her before she kicked the shattered ground forward, sending clumps and bits of stone flying at dangerous speeds. They pierced right through the ruins, creating even more cracks and damages, but they never so much as rippled the mist of the Smoky Bull, leaving the monster behind it untouched. "That cur deserves to die if he ever falls to your temptations."

"You and your Order are no different than me and the other Sins….." Figures of hellspawns that ran amok in Pandemonium began forming around Zakurah, sporting vaporing teeth and claws that are guaranteed to rip her apart instead of dispersing once they touched her, "...even if I have never met him, I can perfectly tell before that the Cardinal was corrupted with the Sin of Wrath….."

A hulking hellspawn swung a club-like arm at her head, only for the wrist to meet the wrath of her fist and dissipate into nothingness. An imitation of a hell knight, sporting thorny armor and a serrated blade swung its sword at her neck, only to hit her hand that went to block it and break the weapon to simple air, as if her arm had the durability of a mountain, before an uppercut sent its head flying and its entire form to thin air.

The gigantic maw that was about to bite her head off only lost its teeth and its entire upper jaw with its entire form being next, thanks to her strengthening the aura around her form. With a whirl, her hands boiling with the magic she learned from Raeburn, her fingers exhumed superheated rays of light and swung it like a claw to the remaining smoky imitations, chanting a fierce canto, "**Jiwald!**"

Hellspawns made out of living vapors were incinerated to nothing, and whatever ruins were in the direction of her swing were cut to pieces, like a hot knife through butter, before they toppled over in clean slices and created a cloud of dust in its fall.

She whirled back to face Gluttony, just in time to see a large chunk of cement flying straight to her mug, payback for what she gave to the woman. And her mien was fully intact, especially her hair, when the hard stone collided against her skin and crumbled apart, leaving only her blouse and skirt to suffer the brunt of the punishment by sustaining shreds and cuts.

As if she didn't suffer a faceful of cement, Zakurah retorted, "The Cardinal and his zealots are all dead. His evil is no more. My Master made sure of that."

"Hmph…" A giant blade emerged from the green cloud escaping Gluttony's lips and swung towards her horizontally, promising to bisect the blonde in half, and Zakurah's slim arm coated with holy energy easily stopped the strike, without the slightest budge or flinch, "…and you expect yourself to be forgiven….? The sins of your Order and your fellow knights absolved and be loved again by the humans….?"

Giant axes spun towards the girl, flying like thrown hatchets, and Zakurah blocked every single one with her bare forearms, not the slightest mark or cut on her skin each time, and her braid is still intact despite the movement she's making.

"Why do you continue that forsaken duty of yours when the Order is founded on poison and _lies_…? The Order of the Serpent are loved more than your accursed Church will ever be…..now your filth has managed to reach this world as well…."

With a cry, she raised her fists high in a cross and spread them apart, sending out another blast of blinding light from her form, the pupils in her eyes lost in the bright of the Heavens and decimating the smoky weapons coming her way before she leapt towards Gluttony, cracking the ground behind her and rearing her fist back.

Her fist sunk elbow-deep into the cement, the place the Undead woman had been before she was suddenly in the last place Zakurah had been. A radical position-switch.

"Forget yourself being brought back to Life and why." She pulled her fist out of the ground, grey powder coating her fist all the way to the elbow, before turning around to face Gluttony, swatting aside a thrown boulder aside as if it were a paper ball, asking, "How are you in this world? Were you brought here by the same rift that did the same to me? Was the Necromancer who reanimated you also here as well?"

"None of that matters….." She blew out large quantities of smoke, gathering to the fallen ruins Zakurah felled with her Light spell of Jiwald, picking them up with a green mist underneath each rubble and lifting them up high as if they weighed no more than air, counting to more than 50 chunks, some the size of two fists together and some big enough to crush ten men flat. "…I will rid this world of your filth and be done with it, then I'll deliver your corpse to the boy."

With a point of her finger, the middle one, a storm of stone and mortar fell upon Zakurah.

The impact created an even bigger cloud of dust and an even louder sound that the guards patrolling the Capital streets could definitely see and hear it from afar, now drawing attention to the trouble that was happening in one of the abandoned parts of the City.

When the dust cleared, what was left of Zakurah was a giant tower shield that stood diagonally towards the sky, the front bearing the engravings of the Holy Cross and the Archangel Michael, the symbol of the Order of Holy Knights.

With an audible grunt and a click of metal, the tower shield split in the middle and Zakurah was seen kneeling against the ground before she stood up, the two heavy halves strapped to each of her arms and easily lifted up as if they weighed like a cut of parchment, their size so large compared to her average stature of 5'8" that they had to be angled horizontally by her side.

The blond watched the vivid shock on Gluttony's face, surprising even herself to see it on the Undead woman when the latter impressed her as dispassionate and detached from the world except to her own hunger and wanton lust of the flesh.

Zakurah watched the surprise slowly devolved into lividness. _Wrath_. The Undead woman was suddenly angry, the murder in her dark blue eyes burning bright with hatred and loathing as they burned a hole into the blonde's skull.

"**Why…..**" Gone was that honeysweet tone of hers, and a monstrous dialogue escaped out of her _morphing _mouth_. _"**…do you have that…!?**"

Zakurah frowned cautiously and stood back, her shields at the ready, suddenly feeling that things are about to get a lot worse than it already had. The pressure of Gluttony's presence had expanded, and it wore down on her confidence when she didn't have her armor and sword with her.

The woman's eyes _melted_, sinking back into her head before she no longer had any sockets. A second mouth filled with sharp teeth took its place, drooling and growling.

Her dark red robes suddenly slipped off her form, as if her body had suddenly became too small for it, and they fell to the ground, revealing a featureless body that sported many, many _mouths _full of teeth. Their deep growls shook the ground, vibrated her chest, and filled the air with a haunting omen.

Then her torso contorted, shifted, _expanded_, enlarging to gigantic sizes while her lower half shrunk, the legs melting into nothing but stubs and merging together into a tail that ended in a dangerous spike that toppled down a rundown building's wall.

In a matter of seconds, the multi-mouthed half of a blind giant glowered over her with an apparent spite in its features, screaming the voice of a Legion that shook the world.

**"WhY iS pErIcUs' ShIeLd iN yOuR hAnDs!?"**

In a speed defying its size, the Abomination raised its four-fingered hand towards the sky and swung it down on her as soon as she put the tower shield together above her, blocking the strike that could have destroyed an entire building. Yet Zakurah suffered the blow without the slightest budge, one knee on the ground and the floors beneath her cracking, sinking her down by several meters.

Her mind wasn't focused on the current situation at hand or a plan of action to defeat Gluttony, but more to the fact that this monster had suddenly said her Master's name and even recognized the shield as having once belonged to him when he lived.

With a cry, she pushed against the abomination's hand, sending it high enough before she jumped away and escaped the fate of being flattened on the crater by the monster's fist. One half of the shield facing the creature, the other held horizontally and protecting her side, she asked in a shout, "How do you know my Master's name!? The Hero, Emurdol Viandegroc, and Kozam Ironhand were the only ones he told his name to! So how do you know him!?"

Gluttony's response was to scream bloody murder, mixing the sounds of screaming babies, yelling women, and roaring men together, loud enough to shake the very earth as if an earthquake was occurring as she reared back a fist and threw it viciously like a battering ram.

The force of the blow five times the might of a boulder launched by a trebuchet, including the fact that she isn't wearing her armor, she couldn't hold herself in place and ended up sliding a few meters backwards, destroying her shoes in the process, her left shield blocking the blow while the right shield faced behind her, the bottom digging into the ground and leaving a long trench as she tried to stop the momentum. The shockwave of the punch knocked over the weakest structures around them as well.

The right shield hitting the wall of a ruin and stopping her momentum entirely, destroying the decrepit structure behind her after absorbing the force of her impact, she put both halves together in front of her and charged, leaping off the ground and heading straight towards the Abomination's face, moving in the speed of an arrow.

Gluttony quickly caught Zakurah in the air with her massive hand and smashed her straight to the ground, the lack of armor giving her no favors in being an unstoppable juggernaut and instead rendering her power halved.

Due to the power granted to her, the damage she suffered wasn't enough to kill nor even _harm _her, her spine and the skin of her back perfectly intact save for her blouse, but she was left pinned under the weight of the abomination's hand, held back by the giant tower shield, the crater she's in sinking deeper and deeper, the cracks of the ground widening with her in the epicenter.

Then it stopped.

The suddenness of the _lack _of hostility and pressure made her open her tightly-closed eyes, looking up to the giant palm and peeking through the gaps of its fingers, looking at Gluttony staring at a direction to the right, as if there was someone calling her.

Then the Abomination growled, sending powerful vibrations across her body from mere contact with its hand that it could have killed a lesser warrior before it was lifted off her. Sitting up quickly, separating the shield into two halves again, she watched as Gluttony began shrinking, her many mouths closing and disappearing into the flesh before she was now an extremely beautiful and alluring woman again, having the perfect curves and a face that would burn all hearts.

The Smoky Bull pipe suddenly appearing in her hands, she took a deep pull before letting out an idle smoke, the venomous glare returning to her dark blue orbs, "You've earned the chance for an audience…." Seductive and full of temptation, she walked over to her discarded robes and picked it up with her toes before bringing it to her free hand, hiding the front of her featureless body with it like an innocent maiden, all without breaking eye contact.

An _extremely _enticing action.

Zakurah was glad for her training in strength and spirit, for lesser men _and _women would have lost their minds at the mere _sight_ of her.

"Tomorrow, return to this place and I will entertain you civilly. We shall exchange information and answers…." The green cloud surrounded her form, every bit of her flesh within sight slowly being shrouded into concealment, and the murder in her eyes became even more palpable, "….if it weren't for the mercy of the Hero of Pandemonium, I will **_never _let you live another second in my presencccce…!**"

With the last few words of her sentence turning demonic, the Corruption of Gluttony was fully cocooned in her vapors and glided away into the darkness of a nearby alley, practically sinking into the shadows and vanishing like a ghost.

At the exact moment she was gone, the city guards arrived into the scene, swords drawn and forms tense, and once they saw a roughed-up woman buried into a crater, they were quick to come to her aid.

"Miss, are you alright!?" One asked, kneeling down beside her and placing an armored hand on her shoulder, "What happened here!?"

"By the Dragon, what on earth happened here?" Another guard asked, looking at the amount of damage this place had sustained.

"John, the woman. How is she?" The third guard asked the one next to her, looking at all directions for who could have caused this mess.

"Miss, can you hear me?" The guard shook her shoulder gently, trying to get her attention. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

Zakurah half-listened to the guard and blankly raised a hand to show she's fine, not answering any of his questions but only raising more.

_She said 'Hero of Pandemonium'…..there was only one Hero since a millennia ago…and he disappeared 5 years ago._

Her eyes widened in realization and disbelief, unsure whether this was a complete coincidence or God had actually sent her the blessing she has been praying for.

"Miss…are you alright?"

_…it can't be…..it can't be him…._

_…...but Emurdol Viandegroc was the only one who slain Gluttony, and he was a Priest of the Serpent….it _has_ to be him. There's no way she could have been Undead and _be here _otherwise….._

"Oh Lord, you truly work in mysterious ways." She muttered, a small smile on her lips despite what just happened minutes ago.

"Miss?"

She lightly huffed in a small chuckle, shaking her head, her braid swinging back and forth before she stood up on her feet, rolling her shoulders one by one. Then she finally noticed the shreds on her clothes and her lack of footwear. Her bare feet were pristinely immaculate, never having suffered the worst of the struggle, "Oh dear."

"Mi-miss?" Suddenly, the guard attending her was timid, looking to the side.

Turning a questioning gaze to the man, "Yes?"

"Y-your back." He stuttered, still looking away while gesturing to her back, "The back of your garments are….lacking."

Raising her eyebrows, she looked at the other men and noticed that they were also looking away from her. She patted her rear, the long skirt dirty but thankfully not too damaged. She patted her back, she felt her bare skin powdered by shattered cement and stone.

"Ah, I see…" Instead of being flustered, she simply picked up the two halves of her Master's shield, baffling the men as they watched a girl with an average build lift up thick blocks of ornate steel with her bare hands and _slammed _them together, creating a deafening sound and forming the biggest tower shield they ever laid eyes on before she strapped it to her back, effectively hiding her shame.

The girl never so much as buckled from the weight of carrying what's practically a _gate _like a backpack.

"There, that's better." Patting the guard's shoulders and addressing the rest, who are still wide-eyed and frozen in shock, she told them, "Thank you for your continued service to the public. I'll pray that you will all be rewarded for doing your duties."

With that, she walked out of the ruins, walked sideways through the alleyway she entered from, and left behind speechless guardsmen who came to find out what's wrong only to end up questioning their sanity.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Papa~~" Meili quickly ran up to him the sooner he was in her sights.

Emurdol stood up, bent his knees and received his daughter, raising her high in the air before squeezing her to himself, kissing her in the left eye.

"Aw, ain't that sweet?" Cooed Al, patting his chest softly, "Stayin' sane ain't easy 'less ya got something to work hard for or go home to, and I see ya got one."

"Yes," Emilia agreed, smiling at the hugging pair. "Though she's adopted, they love each other very much."

"Hmm…so necros can actually have kids and love 'em, eh…" Al said in awe and wonder, then shrugged, "Well, you learn something new everyday, right?"

Parting the hugs only at the chest, Meili remaining clung onto him with her legs around his waist and keeping her from slipping off with his arms around her rear, Emurdol adjusted her position till she sat on his left forearm and gestured to the bandit-looking chap, **"Meili, this is Aldebaran. A fellow from Beyond the Waterfall, just like me."**

"Hello!" Al greeted cheerfully, enthusiastically waving his hand. "You're a lot cuter than I expected, kiddo. Daddy must be so lucky to have ya in the house, eh?"

Meili, still under the influence of Emotion Suppression, held out a hand towards him, palms facing the man and fingers splayed apart, "Meili's my name. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Al reached out and interlocked fingers with the little one, dwarfing Meili's hand with his larger own, then shook it up and down, drawing out a robotic smile from her lips.

"Mmm, How p'rceptive of thee to waiteth f'r me at mine own destination, Al." The woman that Meili had brought with her commented, addressing Al. "Thy loyalty is commendable."

Al laughed, releasing Meili's hand, "To be honest, I wanna say that he's the one who knew you were coming but that's just gonna tick you off so I'm just gonna agree. Yep! It's just like you said, Princess! Truly knew you were comin'!"

If Meili's emotions were unrestrained, she would be baffled looking at the bandit-looking chap ruffle the domineering woman's orange hair with his palm and receiving no backlash for his audacity. Her mind only acknowledged a close relationship between the woman in red and Al.

The latter looked at his companion, then turned to the three and said, "Oh yeah, I just realized, the people we were lookin' for just happened to be together. Don't you think its fate, man?"

**"I don't believe in Fate." **Emurdol's voice was very derisive, **"It's just a fantasy made by spineless idiots who do not know what they want."**

There were many prophecies in the archives of any scholar or wizard back in Pandemonium, and they were proven wrong time and time again by the hands of _humans_.

Humans are _wonderful _beings.

Suddenly, he felt Emilia suddenly hide behind him, pulling her hood down even further and hiding from what's in front of him.

Intrigue rose up in Emurdol's mind when it was the woman in red the half-elf was hiding from, staring at her sharply and intently with his green orbs, trying to see what could be the reason she's cowering from her.

"What? Staring at me, peasant?" The woman suddenly asked Emurdol, haughtily and pompously, "Drinking in the beauty thee shall dearly misseth once I depart? C'rtainly, mine own beauty is so divine 'tis sinful but 'tis malapert to stareth in silence."

Emurdol successfully forced himself into Emotion Suppression before he made a biting retort, stopping the remark he has about her _disgusting_ Soul that resided in a useless lump of meat that deserved to be preserved in one of his jars from coming out, **"Now that we have received who we are waiting for, shall we part?"**

Strangely, the woman didn't react to the eldritch voice in her head. He wanted to see her freak out.

"Yeah, sure." Al shrugged, "Would'a liked to talk a little more but guess we got some business to do, eh?"

Nodding, he turned around, with Emilia following the same motion, and he pushed her forward, making sure she isn't seen by using his frame to cover her, made bigger by the cloak on his shoulders. **"I'll pick these up."**

He crouched down to pick up the bag of apples and pass it to Meili's hands. Emilia was visibly stiff under her concealing cloak when she was briefly exposed but he quickly assured her by putting an armored hand on her shoulder and squeezing it gently.

"Wait." The woman called out, forcing Emurdol to stop walking. "What is in the bag the whelp carries?"

"Appas." Meili answered before he could. Emurdol turned around once again just to face her. His daughter pulled one fruit out, showing it to her, "See?"

The woman blinked, then snorted and regarded her like an imbecile, "Lie. Do not joke to me. Appas are white, understood? I has't absolutely nev'r seen fruit like that."

The surprise that crossed Meili and Emurdol's mind was enough to break through the Emotion Suppression and release the emotion free, letting it show on their once-blank faces. "Y…you never seen an unpeeled appaaaa?"

"Indeed not. I have never seen one that was not at the dinner table."

**_SPOILED_**.

That was the only thought that crossed both their minds, and they successfully held down the fire that lit up in their hearts before it forced their faces to sneer viciously and derisively. Only a light glow of their green eyes was all that indicated it.

Meili threw the apple in hand to the woman, and she caught it with both hands. "They're tasty even if unpeeeled."

Since his daughter was benevolent enough to give one to somebody she loathed, Emurdol did the same and threw one to Al. The latter caught it easily with his only hand before saluting them with a finger gratefully. "Thanks, you two! Ya'll are so kind."

Leaving it at that, Emurdol nodded and walked away, pushing Emilia along by the shoulder, keeping his arm draped around it to assure her. She kept her head down all the way.

"Thanks for helpin' out with my search, you guys!"

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Haaaa, what a daaaayyyy…." Meili sighed, leaning against Emurdol's chest, fighting back the urge to close her eyes while she's gently and pleasantly rocked as she sat on his forearm, her father and Emilia walking side by side back to the lodge.

Emurdol eyed the grim look on the half-elf's face, and it's been there ever since leaving the woman and Al. **"If there is something wrong, Dear Girl, you can tell us."**

A brief silence passed by before she suddenly stopped walking, lifting her gaze up to look Meili in the eye. Meili noticed her demeanor and met her gaze, "Little Meili….where did…..why…..how did you meet that girl?"

Meili stared at Emilia. Meili turned to face Emurdol. Emurdol met her glance. Both turned back to Emilia and the daughter answered, "Curiosityyy? I thought she was about to get in trouble so Papa gave me permission to help but noooo. She didn't actually neeeed it."

Emurdol smoothed some locks that fell on Meili's face to behind her ears, bouncing her lightly in his arm, **"_She_ was the trouble, apparently. Cocky woman."**

"I already haaaate her."

Emilia let out a relieved sigh for the answers, "That girl…the one in red? I don't know if she told you but she is actually the—"

"Fucking _there_ you are! Been lookin' all over for ya, damn it!"

Instead of being surprised at the sudden hostility, Meili and Emurdol only closed their eyes in resignation, wondering just _how _their animosity is still fresh despite the amount of time that's passed.

Looking around them, the thugs from earlier had surrounded the three, blocking the streets on both sides and cutting off any escape, some brandishing mean weapons. Meili eyed them pitifully for failing to realize what they are in for if they actually want this fight.

At the vanguard was somebody Emurdol vaguely remembered, one of the first three thugs he's ever met since coming to this world. That bulky idiot with the green vest and a fat belly. He thought he broke this bastard's jaw. "I've been lookin' for you and that woman to pay ya back for trickin' me before….!"

Doesn't seem to remember him, perfectly fitting for a nickname like 'Idiot'.

Instead of acknowledging the threat, Emurdol turned to face his daughter, who looked down in shame. **"I thought you neutralized them, Meili. What happened?"**

Looking up, weakly smiling, she gave her best reasoning, "Because it'd be loud…?"

Sighing, he set her down and crossed his arms, looking at her, **"Clean up your mess. I'll be watching."**

As if she was told to clean her room instead of being told to get rid of a group of grown men by herself, Meili's gaze went downwards in resignation, "Okaayyy." Turning to Emilia, she held out the bag of apples in her hands, "Hold this, pleeaaase."

Wordlesssly, the half-elf took them before Meili faced the crowd of thugs and pulled off the glove of her hand, flexing her brown fingers and rotating her wrist. The demeanor of an admonished little girl disappeared, giving way for the presence of a tiger to take her place, emanating a pressure of danger just by standing and staring at them with glowing olive green eyes, the thugs were taken aback by it.

Just as she was about to perform her best dash towards the fat idiot, his head was suddenly pressed into the ground, buried into the stony floors, shocking the others.

Instead of Meili's fist taking the credit, a shoe was the one who done the deed.

"Rem came here tracking Ser Emurdol's scent. What kind of disturbance is this?"

The familiar voice and the recognizable figure that stood over the fat idiot's head sent the battle mindset off Meili's head and instead filled her with glee, "Remiiii!"

"Yes. It's your lovable and favorite maid, Rem." With a cute smile, Rem primly performed a curtsy to Meili and the two behind her, as if she isn't standing above someone's head very painfully. "Is something the problem?"

Meili opened her mouth, raising up a finger before she pointed at the body below the maid's feet, "Is he okayyy?"

Rem looked down below her feet, the idiot letting out one final groan before losing consciousness altogether.

"He is breathing."

"Yaaay!" Meili began clapping her hands jubilantly, as if she just watched an attraction play out, "And she didn't even kill him despite breaking the floooor! I'd kill somebody if I triiied! Look, everybodyyyy! That's my and Papa's cute _wiiiife_!"

"Oh no….I am Ser Emudol's wife…it makes me blush…."

The atmosphere between Meili and a blushing Rem contrasted the thugs' own, who reeled at her sudden arrival of violence, but they quickly got their bearings back. "D-don't think we're done here! Ya think ya'll gonna get outta this alive…!?"

The shaking of that voice didn't help with the weak force of threat, but it was enough to make Rem revert to that professional maid persona of hers and face the group of thugs calmly but viciously, "Rem judges that these men threaten the safety of Ser Emurdol, Meili and Lady Emilia."

The thugs faltered yet again, seeing something so innocent become instantly hostile for the second time in no less than two minutes.

**"Rem?"**

The maid looked over her shoulder, "Yes?"

Stepping forward, cracking the knuckles of his left hand, with Meili following beside him and doing the same thing, Emurdol's face finally broke out of its constant neutral visage, presenting a rare sadistic smile that threatened to split his head in half, reserved for only when he's about to commit violence and harm. His daughter managed to overpower him in terms of terror quality by turning her teeth into sharp points.

**"Leave some for me and my daughter. And please, spare their lives."**

"You're as magnanimous as ever, Ser Emurdol!" Rem gushed, then turned back to the mob and said the next words in a pleasant mixture of loveliness and violence, "Rem shall half-kill them, then!"

With a fury, the three leapt to the crowd. Meili, cackling wickedly, was the first to land a blow, grabbing a bastard's face and sent it slamming to the ground. Rem sent more than a few flying with a single punch at a time. The wyrmm dodged a fist coming for the back of her head by leaning sideways and sent the assailant spinning to the ground with a backhand slap of her brown hand. Those who lunged the maid were easily sent flying to the walls or thrashed thoroughly.

Whoever tried to run from the fight, Emurdol made sure they never did by grabbing them off the ground and throwing them back to the vicious pair of sweet little girls as if being fed to the lions. Those who cowered received impartial treatment, punched by a delicate fist or whacked by a hand made out of witchbeast flesh.

Like a spider with the longest legs, with tentacle-like appendages made out of flexible spinal columns grabbing any fleeing idiot and throwing them back into the fight, Emurdol glowered over the horrified mob of thugs at a height of 12 feet off the ground, emulating the day he fed William the Supreme Corruption of Pride to the vengeful Army of the Dead, smiling wickedly and spreading his arms to the side. Eyes burning brightly, and his hair flaring out like a fan it framed his face terrifyingly, he burned a traumatic memory on all of them, the sound of monstrous laughing in their minds promising to haunt their sleep for the rest of their lives.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Here you go, Zakurah." With a smile, the black haired boy set a cup of warm tea before her on the table.

Nodding gratefully, she took the cup in her hands and blew into it, "Thank you as always, Ser Raeburn." Since coming back from the fight with the tower shield now put away, she put on another set of fresh clothes to replace her damaged ones. Now returned to her friend's home, meaning to tell him all about it, she is seated down to take a breath and have a cup of tea.

Chuckling good-naturedly and sighing exasperatingly, holding the teapot close to his chest, he replied, "_Again_, Zakurah, you slipped. How many times is it this time? You're not afraid to tell me that you enjoy battling and killing hellspawns even though the Knights of the Inverted Cross were supposed to be virtuous yet you always talk formally around me?"

Huffing in a short laugh, the Holy Knight brought the edge of the cup to her lips, "Forgive me…._sorry_, Raeburn, I lost count. You should understand, the habit could not be controlled." She then took a gentle sip, relishing in the good taste.

Raeburn put the kettle down on the table, sitting down on a chair across her, "I know, I know, but come on, it's been _three_ weeks already. Shouldn't it be time for you to stop addressing me with 'Ser' since, I don't know, maybe two weeks ago?"

Lowering the cup to the table, licking her lips, she replied with a resolute tone, "Here or Pandemonium, I will slave if I must for the redemption of the Order's faith. My predecessors' wrath have caused so much pain to the innocents and it must be paid, not just in the things we do but in the way we are." She turned to face him, "We had this conversation before. _You_ suffered from us once, I must pay for it."

The boy pursed his lips, having no argument on her resolve. For one thing, he had personally experienced the cruelty the Order of Holy Knights were capable of, and his village suffered a lot more. Being abandoned by them was one thing, but being demonized as heretics for using small parts of hellspawn anatomy as materials just to survive a _single _winter is completely inexcusable. They were completely cut off from the rest of the world, unable to trade for seeds and goods from passing merchants or even _contact _people from other civilizations. If it weren't for their tenacious efforts to create a self-sustaining environment, they would have starved to death a long time ago.

The Order of Holy Knights were supposed to protect the innocents, yet they leave the helpless behind for the smallest of slights whenever it concerned their dogma.

The mad Cultists took the opportunity the sooner it showed itself when the village was completely vulnerable and unprotected. If it weren't for Raeburn's gifts of dispelling curses and impurities that came when using hellspawn flesh as materials, they would have eradicated the village long ago. Being used as their tool was worth it if it kept them safe from their hands.

Clenching his fist, he sighed once as he looked back at the past, the only sound present being the crackling of the fireplace and Zakurah's steady breathing.

"Right…." Resting his crossed arms on the table, he looked the Holy Knight in the eye, "….you were meaning to tell me something, regarding what happened to you earlier?"

Zakurah nodded, "Yes, and I am not sure if you would believe me."

"Try me. 5 years in this world, where magic is fundamentally different and a great number of sentient species aren't even _human_, I'm pretty sure I could take it."

The blonde eyed him with scrutiny, trying to find any sort of bravado in his features and seeing only a serious air, she decided that she can try him, "But first, I have to ask."

"Yes?"

"Before you were forced to this world, what significant event can you remember has happened in Pandemonium?"

"Significant event? Hmm…." Raeburn rubbed his chin in thought, "…egh….um, you have to forgive me. My village was isolated from much of the world thanks to the Holy Order, and I've been a tool to cultists for more than a few years, so I'm not really up to speed with going ons in Pandemonium."

Zakurah lowered her head, "I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's okay." He waved her off, "I put it all behind me….however, there _was_ one thing that spread throughout any civilization like wildfire. The Supreme Corruption of Gluttony, the monster woman that not even the Holy Knights could kill, was _dead_. I found it hard to believe at first but when I tried to see if it was true by going to her lair, I found her head on a pike in front of the entrance as if it was some sort of twisted trophy or sign that she's _truly _dead. When I tried to get inside and find her body, it was already caved-in."

Zakurah remembered her master talking about it when he last checked the place the Hero walked out of with a broken arm and a bleeding side when he killed Gluttony: the face was _melted _nearly to the bone, with little amount of skin or hair left, "Was that before or after you nearly died?"

His brow furrowed to remember, reaching to rub his right side and felt the scar through his tunic. The same place a black bone knife had sunk itself to years ago and nearly killed him. "….I think it was before. The Cultists wouldn't stop talking about it around me."

The Holy Knight nodded in understanding, then took a deep breath and braced herself, "…she's here."

Raeburn became still. _Very _still. His orange gaze slowly became dull, and his inquiry was monotonous, "Say again?"

Zakurah was stone-faced, "Gluttony is _here_, in this world with us. She was the one who attacked me earlier." She quickly raised her hand to stop him before the boy was fully stood up to his feet from his chair, "Before you do anything, hear me out."

Grim concern lingered in Raeburn's eyes but he hesitantly sat back down, trusting in the possibility that his friend could bear some good news as well, "I'm listening."

Taking her cup to her lips and drinking it whole, she put it down gently and continued, "If you think she actually survived, no. She's dead, fully and completely. But she has been brought back to life, and it's obviously by the work of necromancy."

Raeburn remained still. "How do you know it was her?"

A grim light took over her blue orbs, "She had a pipe with gold engravings that symbolized a bull. She was so beautiful she could tempt a man to sin with a mere whisper, and her hair was so red it could almost be mistaken for blood. She even tried to kill me with the green smoke of her pipe as if they were alive. There's no doubt that it's her."

Living green smoke from a pipe and impossible beauty that no one in Pandemonium could hold a candle to, the stories Raeburn heard about her clearly matched. Compared to the other Supreme Sins where their identities, faces, or locations are heavily secret, Gluttony was the most well-known. It's a remarkable feat for the witnesses themselves how they managed to know even the quality of her beauty and her methods of killing people without getting eaten by her.

"But when I summoned my Master's shields, Gluttony was suddenly clouded in rage when she looked at them." The information brought a frown on Raeburn's face, "She questioned why I have them. She even screamed my Master's name, as if she never expected me to have them in the first place."

An even deeper frown made its way to the boy's brow, "I thought you said your Master never fought a single Supreme Sin except Wrath, who was the Cardinal of the Church. How does she of all people know his name? Don't Holy Knights keep their identities secret?"

"That leads me to a certain possibility that even I couldn't believe but have to, considering the amount of evidence I noticed." Zakurah leaned forward, raising up a finger, speaking in the most hushed tones, "I told you before that the Hero who vanquished Gluttony, Envy, Pride and Greed, was a Priest of the Serpent, yes?"

Silently, Raeburn pondered over it, fiddling with his lower lip, and after a dozen seconds, he pieced it all together, the conclusion causing his eyes to open so widely that they threatened to pop out of his sockets.

Gluttony; back from the dead by necromancy; here in this world; knowing Pericus' name; and the Hero of Pandemonium disappeared five years ago.

When he tried to verbalize his thoughts, he nearly couldn't let it out, the weight of it practically making him crumble on the inside, and only by sheer force of will did he manage it, "The Hero…."

"Yes." Stiffly, the Holy Knight nodded. "The Hero, Emurdol Viandegroc is _here _in this world. When he finally killed Pride, he disappeared from existence a month and a half later. The last time he was ever seen was when he departed from the village that celebrated him to return to the City deep Underground. However, the only Priest of the Serpent I managed to have an audience with told me that he has _never _arrived to them. "

So, basically, the Hero was forced in the same circumstances as the two of them.

"And the reason why Gluttony is even _alive _right now, is because of _him_?" His voice was strained despite the whisper.

"That's very likely, yes." She interlocked her fingers in front of her mouth, "And Gluttony said I earned the chance for an audience tomorrow. She even said that if it weren't for the Hero of Pandemonium's mercy, she would not let me live another second in her presence."

He reached up to grab his hair and pulled, trying to make sense with what he's hearing. Subconsciously, his other hand went to rub the stab scar on his right side again. "It could be a trap."

"It could be, or maybe not, but I'm going anyway. This time, however, I'm not going there unprepared." Zakurah's determination shined from her blue eyes despite the dim lighting of the room, "I _must_ meet the Hero of Pandemonium."

Raeburn learned a lot of things about the blonde in front of him since he found her lost and confused in the wilderness, but the most prominent among them was that once she decided upon something, she will live up to her name as a Holy Knight—she will _never _stop. Persuading her otherwise will yield no reward whatsoever. It will be like talking to a wall, because she _is_. _She's a walking Metal Gate._

He sighed, resigned to the prospect of tomorrow, and stood up, walking to his room. Coming out of the door a few seconds later, he had a weapon resting on his shoulder, as long as his arm and just as thick. A long wooden shaft lined with blue magic stones with a stake-like metal pommel, and its head was a stack consisting of two blunt weapons: a gothic mace and above it an octagonal metal length with studs and spikes protruding across each side.

"I'll halt my daily jams for tomorrow." He held his club with both hands and began spinning it stylishly, the small magic stones glowing and leaving trails of mana in the air, showing experience and veteran handling with the weapon, "I'll come with you then. If it's going to end in a fight, then you will need me. As you know, I happen to be very skilled at fighting Death Mages."

"Hm." Knowing his strength and his record of surviving 5 years in this world in the Gladiator Islands of Ginunhive in Vollachia, Zakurah can trust in his strength. She held her chin, remembering the story of his life after she told him hers. "If I could remember, your first fight against a Priest of the Serpent led you to an inch of your life remaining."

"Remember, I was _distracted _when he stabbed me, and we had to work together to kill a Dracolich the Cult was actually making." Without missing a beat in the spins and twirls of his club, he retorted her with a pointed tone. "The fact that I didn't die means my 'murderer' decided I was worth sparing."

"You _earned_ the right to live, Raeburn." The Holy Knight firmly pointed out, "You could have fallen to their evil but you didn't. He _realized_ your plan to destroy the Cult from the inside and made sure the poison he stabbed into you doesn't kill you completely."

"You sound so sure, Zakurah, even though you haven't met him yet."

"And I _am_. My Master speaks very highly of him, and I believe his every word when he says that Emurdol Viandegroc is a _good_ man despite his ways. I mean, why else would he bring you to an accomplished healer by _himself_ when he could have just left you to die?"

"Well…that I can't deny." He couldn't believe the words of the High Empress who healed him when he came to that day. It altered the views he had on Priests of the Serpent completely, wrought by the propaganda of the Holy Knights, where it blatantly showed that the Pale Ones are not complete demons. "I have planned to track him down and thank him once I was fully recovered that day, but a group of insurgents in Vollachia forced me to this world before I could."

"And it's safe to say your gratitude involves _clubbing_, Raeburn?" Zakurah asked with a hint of a snark.

He chuckled, "It's not me, Zakurah." He stopped spinning his club and held it with both hands, looking at her ironically, "It's _him _you should be concerned about. The last impression I had of this Hero of yours is that he does not _talk_. The first thing he did once he saw me was to behead me with one of his six arms. If he sees you, a _Holy Knight_, his _natural enemy _at that, I'm very certain he will do worse than he did me."

"If it means I get to see the Hero of Pandemonium in action, then I shall accept whatever he throws at me." Zakurah reached inside her blouse and pulled out her silver rosary, kissing the Cross. "So long as God wills this power within me, I shall _never _fall."

He sighed, resting Schlangenbiss, Snake Bite, on his shoulder, hoping that this inevitable meeting ends well as fellow Pandemonians to another.


	19. The Reason

_"Papa, what are you gonna do when the Royal Selection begiiins?"_

_Emurdol's face didn't change as he continued putting together the pieces of bone to create a little pillar, his lower body unmoving since kneeling on the carpeted floors, but Meili's Link told her that he's thinking her question over carefully._

_"Do you wanna go and support Emily with all you haaave?"_

_His skeleton hand rubbed a section of a small femur, shaving out the section just slightly before placing a second piece against the groove, connecting them together._

_"Do you have a reason to support heeeer?"_

_He put the piece down, taking another bone from the pile beside him and starting with shaving out the joint end._

_"Are you gonna answer meee?"_

_He paused in his work, looking up to his daughter that was steadily scowling at him for his lack of response. _

_He looked down, focusing on everything she asked, relating them to his motives, and why._

**_"To be honest….I don't know. All I ever cared about is living, with you."_**

_"What _did _you care about in Pandemoniuuuum?"_

**_"Killing people…." _**_Nonchalantly, he answered her, **"…and later, killing the Sins. And when that was over, I was forced to this world."**_

_She blinked slowly, "You had nothiiiing."_

_He shook his head, **"I should have died, or have returned to the Underground City."**_

_Meili watched him continue his work, waiting for him to say any more._

_None. Just silence, only the sound of bones connecting together the one thing that filled the dark room they were in together._

_So Meili raised a different question, "Do you care about Emilyyy?"_

**_"I do." _**_His answer was immediate._

_"Why?"_

_A short pause. **"Because someone like her deserves better than what the world offers."**_

_Reflecting to his own suffering as a Priest of the Serpent, most likely. Meili understood that._

_"Do _you _want to give her what she deseeerves?"_

_He paused, and her Link told her that not even he is sure of the answer. It actually troubled him. Not knowing an answer meant not knowing himself or his place in Life._

_She stood up from her kneeling position, placing the toy figures on her lap to the floor, and she walked around their half-finished miniature castle of bone before she hugged him from behind, wrapping her arms around his neck._

_The contact alone gave him comfort, putting his mind away from his unpleasant thoughts. She nuzzled the back of his head affectionately, clasping fingers with the hand that held her left._

_"When you get your answer…." Her voice muffled against his hair, tightening her embrace, firm enough to suffocate a lesser man, but Emurdol only felt her concern for him, his respiration suffering no problems, "…make sure it's yours."_

_After that, they made more progress on their little project, and when they decided to hold it off for tomorrow, they spent the rest of the evening together in bed, feeding each other mana._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He relished the sensation. Warm and very springy, so full of her pure love and affection for him. If it weren't for the current circumstances, this intimacy would have been taken a little bit further than the usual ones they took. With Ram left in the mansion, Roswaal and Emilia leaving for the Royal Selection early today, leaving them with no possible interruptions, it was the _perfect _opportunity.

His eyes partly opening, his green eyes glowing with his unique emotions, they watched Rem's closed eyes tear up slightly, heavily overwhelmed by the rare expression of raw affection from him. The red of her cheeks were slowly getting brighter, and he was so curious just how red it would get should he take this up to the next level.

With great reluctance, with all of his spirit and will used to douse the spark, he parted the kiss.

Rem's tear soaked eyes opened, revealing the cutest light of disappointment in them despite her pleased sigh as she took in precious oxygen. The mere sight of it is commanding Emurdol's urges to kiss her again, but denied himself the willingness.

**"I'll be leaving now, Dear Maid, unfortunately." **The disappointment was vivid in the voice inside her head.

Rem meekly nodded, hesitantly sliding the hands placed on his shoulders down to his biceps. "Not to worry, Ser Emurdol. You can always come back to Rem….if you wish to continue…" She barely let out the entirety of her sentence, and the parts at the end where almost unheard.

Nodding slowly, he slid his arms around her waist off her, their connected hands squeezing each other's grasps one last time before parting. He turned to Meili, seated on the table and supporting her chin with her hands, smiling at the two, **"I'll be seeing you, An'k."**

"Bye, Papaaa~" She wiggled her fingers goodbye.

Nodding to Viandegroc and Mother, who shall be accompanying him, with the latter armed with only her krises hidden within the light-eating robes underneath her cloak, they walked out the door with a purpose. First went Emurdol, followed by Mother, and then finally Viandegroc as he bid them goodbye before closing the door, "We'll return as soon as we can. Goodbye for now."

And now they left, gone to meet the supposed Holy Knight that apparently made it to this world as well. A Holy Knight who wielded his Pericus' shield. A blatant sign that he _died_ in Pandemonium, and his legacy is handed over to the apprentice he had told Emurdol about. And this Holy Knight could actually _be _the Zakurah he heard so much about from his friend?

If not….

….then the scythe shall drink its fill of blood today.

Meili questioned if her father is actually willing to go through with it, committing murder in the middle of the Capital where such actions would have major consequences. Her Link tells her that the chances are zigzagged. But it depends entirely on _who_ that Holy Knight is.

But it isn't her concern, she's sure that her father can handle it very delicately. For now, she's going to enjoy her turn.

Her smile turning coquettish and lewd, she stood up from the chair and walked over to the still blushing Rem. Taking her favorite maid's hand, the latter slightly taken by surprise at the sudden contact, she met the wyrmm's olive green eyes lighting up hotly towards her and gave a knowing nod.

The delight in Meili's smile rising, she pulled Rem over to her and her father's shared room and pushed the maid down on it, the latter nearly falling to her back but successfully maintained an upright seated position before the wyrmm slid over and sat on her lap, facing her.

This sort of intimacy having been common for a while, Rem didn't blush as much as she did towards Emurdol, taking on a mature flare on her mien and wrapped her arms around the little one's waist, putting their foreheads together lovingly, noses touching and lips barely apart from the other. Meili's flesh was _warm_, her natural cold temperature nowhere to be found; an evidence of true and heartfelt _love _for the maid. The latter delighted in the thought and relished in everything she was given, taking nothing for granted.

After several moments in their silence, they parted and Meili leaned forward, giving a light nip on the maid's white neck before resting her head on her shoulder, draining her mana little by little, her embrace tightening. Rem squeezed her back just as tightly before her horn protruded out of her forehead, sucking in the potent mana seeping out of the wyrmm's body, turning their intimacy into a mutual mana-draining session that was both exhilarating and soothing, each other's warmth and heartbeat palpable to the touch.

Scratching her back from up to down, her other hand fluffing Meili's white hair, she delved into her thoughts. Rem had wondered if this is what it's like to raise children that came from Emurdol's society, where giving mana is as fundamental as giving love. It's blatantly _risky_, as the child could potentially eat the parent's life away. Are they as spoilt or needy as her? So lovably affectionate that one couldn't help but indulge them as much as they liked?

Rem giggled at the thought of an equally needy and spoilt little Emurdol, his little spider legs skittering rapidly on the floors as he ran up to someone's waist and wrapped his small arms around them, looking upwards to the person's face and smiling a cherubic smile.

For the briefest moments, she imagined the darling girl hugging her as that sweet little boy, expressing the purest of childlike love for her, and squealed quietly, practically crushing her partner in her very loving embrace.

Then Rem's smile slowly diminished, the fantasy dying away. Emurdol wasn't raised in such a way, however, as he told her. His Mother was already dead, his father died to save her life and his during his birth, and he grew up without anyone he can truly call a Mother that his biological Link could allow and connect to. His childhood is spent around ghosts and his training, not much time spent to be spoiled or cared for by any family member. His biological mother is just an unfeeling doll, a skeletal frame bound as a slave and defined only by self-righteous wrath.

Such origins didn't diminish his ability to love, however, and that's one of the things Rem truly admires about him. He didn't let his bitterness corrupt his heart, and instead made himself capable of giving the affection he couldn't experience as a child to his adopted daughter.

Meili Sinnuldel was an aftermath of that love. From a twisted individual who murders under the dictations of a kill contract to a sweet and thoughtful girl who can value the wellbeing of others, love anyone and make them do the same.

"Remi."

Suddenly hearing a soft voice that wasn't befitting of Meili, Rem's light blue eyes went wide as she was forced out of her thoughts, her horn disappearing back into her forehead, and turned to the wyrmm that raised her head up from her shoulder and met her eye, a light of doubt shining from her green orbs. It was something she never seen once.

Concerned, she asked, "Is something wrong, Meili?"

Meili bit her lip, creased her brow and nearly hesitant to reply, showing completely unhidden signs of that doubt. Rem was truly taken aback by the sight, as if she was looking at somebody else. This girl was a ray of shine covered by a grey cloud, always making something out of nothing in the mansion.

"Do you love me?"

Rem was taken further aback by the question, despite the intimate moments they had together for the last several weeks. Wearing an assuring smile, she replied, "Yes. Of course. Rem loves you as much as Ser Emurdol does, Meili."

"Do you love me out of your love for Papa? Or do you love me for who I am?" Cold and unfeeling, Meili's warmth disappeared as her tone became low, "After what I did in the Village weeks ago, where I got the other kids cursed and got you involved in the trouble—when I did mean things to you when we first met….can you still love me for that?"

Instead of being cornered in her feelings, Rem only felt her pride and admiration rise for Emurdol. His daughter had the heart to be remorseful and address the wrongs she's done to the person involved. Another product of his unconditional love to her.

"Rem will still love you." She pulled her close, chest to chest and face to face, Meili's beautiful green depths in up close visual, enchanting Rem for their improved magnificence thanks to the numerous procedures she bravely went through. "You see, Dear Sister said that you made yourself a mock servant under her knee as repentance for your actions. She even told me that you realized how unfair it was, the way you treated me at first. It shows that you are a good person at heart, and you had your reasons to act the way you did. Because you love your Father. Rem thinks that such qualities would be worthy of love and respect. Also…"

She leaned back and reached behind her with one hand, pulling out the precious birthday gift she received from her and Emurdol, a token of their feelings for her, and showed it to Meili, making the latter gasp, her green eyes widening. "You brought it with you…." She muttered in disbelief.

A white ivory mask, invoking the image of pure rage. Fixed with delicate curves to signify its feminine quality, the bestial sneer with protruding lower tusks and the carved crease of the brow that invoked a violent scowl or growl made up the whole of its wild contrast. In the center of the forehead was a diamond-shaped opening, a place for her horn to jut through.

Meili had once said: her cute face is not fit to growl and scowl, only a smile is. The mask is to be worn on combat, to better portray the Demonic side of her that her human side couldn't hold justice to. A notion that contrasted the wyrmm's principle to never value the flesh, broken for Rem's sake, something the latter thought undeserved.

The maid's smile could light the halls of a dark castle, "Rem treasures this gift, I think of the time you gave it to me everyday, and my mind is made up to love you not because you are loved by Ser Emurdol, but because this mask shows how valued Rem is." She caressed Meili's pale cheeks, and the latter leaned to her warm palm, "If you desire proof of Rem's love to you, then think only of the reason why this stays with me at all times."

On her palm, she felt the wyrmm's warmth return to her body, the light of pure love fill back her green eyes, practically matching the might of a candlelight that they could burn her fingers if she tried to touch it, and the color red arrived on her cheeks. Meili sat up from her lap, stood on her knees and she kissed Rem squarely on the lips, wrapping her little arms around her head and squeezing tightly, deepening the intimacy.

Squeaking in surprise for the new level of affection she took, she slowly melted to the kiss and returned it, taking it steadily and methodically, according to Meili's pace. Lasting for as long as 20 seconds, but to Rem feeling like it had lasted a lot longer, they parted with a pop and looked into each other's eyes.

Meili bumped their foreheads together and said to her in a whisper, "I love you, Rem."

Smiling happily and lovingly, Rem replied to her, "And I you."

As the wyrmm took a long deep breath that could have exploded a normal human lung, she released it all through her nose in a gust that fluttered Rem's sleeves before Meili moved off the bed, placing her bare feet on the floor and pulling her favorite maid up to her feet.

In an eye-blink, Meili's usual persona came back, turning to the maid with a smile on her face, "I'm going to catch up to Papa, wanna cooome? Or do you have something to doooo?"

The prospect of the offer was enough to make Rem agree immediately, "Yes! Rem would love to! Nothing much is needed to be done except prepare for Ser Emurdol's transfer to Lady Crusch Karsten's mansion come tomorrow, which is already finished."

"Transfeeer?" Meili raised an eyebrow, wondering where she heard that name before, "What do you meeaan?"

Rem raised up a finger, taking a teacher-like vibe. "Ah, you see, Lady Emilia arranged a contract between herself and Lady Crusch so Ser Emurdol can finally have the treatment he was seeking, to heal his throat and his body. As you might not know, the greatest healer of Lugnica is associated to Lady Crusch."

Meili hummed in interest, putting her hands on her waist as she thought about this being the continuation of the feats of kindness Emilia has done for her father in the background, "Emily's working hard for Papa, even though she's busy with the Royal Selection and her studiiieees."

Rem nodded, "It shows that she truly cares for you both. 'A loving daughter cannot be without her Papa', or so she said to me once."

"Pffftt!"

After a few seconds of gathering their basic necessities, they were already out the door of the lodge and sprinting across rooftops towards the bazaar where Emurdol was heading to, to the same fruit vendor they bought apples from. While Rem hopped from rooftop to rooftop as if gravity worked differently to her, Meili extensively used her hands to traverse besides her legs, always landing hands-first and bouncing her form upright as if they were made of rubber, her cloak flying behind her from the speeds she's maintaining.

When her Link sent her messages that Emurdol knows she's coming for him, she speeded up and finally reached him in no time, into one of the roads near the plaza where the bazaar is found and she executed a strong jump off the edge of the roof, gliding for as long as a second before gravity took her over, she saw her father, Uncle and Grandmother looking up to her form. Al the bandit-looking chap was there as well.

Just when her altitude was going to drop, Viandegroc dashed a few meters forward and kicked the ground, his jump carrying him high enough to catch Meili in his arms and gently fell down to Emurdol's level, as soundless as a feather upon his landing. The scene surprised a number of people who noticed what's going on and impressed them enough to clap but uncertainly.

Slapping her hands together to get rid of the dust accumulated on her palms, Rem shortly landed right next to Meili, graceful as always and soundless just like the Flesh Golem.

Stepping up to her waiting father, the latter leaned down and fixed her frayed locks, tucking them behind her ear and adjusting the hood on her head. Leaning back upright, he crossed his arms and asked, **"I thought you'd stay behind to enjoy Rem's company."**

Smiling, she replied, "Nah. We're done. It'd be boring staying there all day so we thought to join yooouu."

Turning to Rem, which the latter waved cutely at his gaze, he turned to his daughter and said, **"I'd ask why did you bring her along but I will hold my tongue. Things have gotten a little different than I planned."**

Suddenly concerned, Meili's smile disappeared and looked Emurdol in the eye, "What's going on?"

He jerked his head to his left, where Al was standing by. Noticing that he must explain himself when the wyrmm turned to him, the one-armed man raised his hand up harmlessly, "Ah, hey, kiddo. Sorry if you two are on a date or somethin' but Princess is callin' for him. And considerin' the kinda person she is, I think refusin' is not something of the best choice right now."

Meili turned to Emurdol, the prompt to explain now on him, he added, **"I reluctantly have to. I'm going to fulfill one of my tasks for coming here, and the demand of his 'Princess' happens to correlate with it."**

"Which is?"

**"To know who I am dealing with." **The look on his face showed that he is completely unwilling to go through with it, considering the unrewarding circumstances.

Her Link sent her an idea of what's about to happen, and her lips pursed in concern, leaning closer with a hand to her mouth, whispering, "You're going to break in to the Castle, aren't you?"

Grimacing, he nodded, **"It's partly out of concern for the Dear Girl as well. I highly predict the prejudice of even the Wise Men to be less than merciful in regards to their views about her lineage."**

A silent fury brewed up in Meili's heart, sharing the spite her father had against idiots fearing somebody they don't even know. Emilia is a kind and simple girl, entertained by the little things and diligent in regards to the things she focuses on. Somebody like that has no business being called the Witch of Envy's relative, the devil of the world. But Reality is unkind, and it's not going to be easy for the girl.

The wyrmm sighed heavily, scratching her head as she wondered how humanity continued to be so wonderful while being so _stupid_. "But what about your audiiieeence? Weren't you gonna meet the Holy Kniiight?"

It's his turn to sigh heavily, smoothing the locks that hung over his face to the side and it stayed there obediently, **"I didn't wish to say this, but can I leave that to you?"**

Instead of being indignant for basically handling his problems for him, she found herself in an agreeing mood towards it, seeing it as a chance to exercise her independence again. Yesterday was a complete bust, considering the boundaries she had to work in. Crossing her arms behind her, similar to how he does, she looked up to him and asked, "What am I gonna dooo?"

He gave her an appreciating nod. **"You answer questions and ask them back with one of your own. Simply do what is natural." **He knelt to one knee and held her shoulder, **"However, I strictly forbid conflict. Appeal only to diplomacy and nothing else. Whether the woman is Zakurah or not, her life is up to me. If you are forced to fight, elude with whatever curse you know and run. Understood?"**

Simple instructions, Meili can manage them. She can tell that he's worried for her, as a Holy Knight is an opponent one must face with good preparation. She is _not_ prepared for a fight, she has enough self-awareness to know that. She nodded, "I understood, Papa."

And he opened up his arms, which she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly, his own wrapping around her small form and squeezed back. Kissing him on the cheek, him giving one to her forehead, he said his farewells, **"Take care, An'k."**

"You too." Caressing his cheek, she stepped back while he stood up to his feet.

With a strange gesture of his hand, a purple elixir suddenly appeared in his armored grasp, pulling out the extract of complete rejuvenation from the Void. Popping the cork off, he leaned down, gently held her chin with a free hand, tilted it up and neared the lip of the vial to her lips.

Opening her mouth just slightly, he poured a single drop on her tongue before she rolled the tasty liquid around her mouth before swallowing it. Just like that, her body won't destroy itself due to being too far away from him for a whole day. She will not have herself go through torture just like she had a month ago in the cave ever again.

Putting the cork back on, throwing it back to the Void, he turned to the maid and beckoned her over, taking her hand as soon as she's close, **"Rem, may I ask you to please watch over my daughter? The task I am having her do is quite delicate."**

"Do not worry, Ser Emurdol." As always, the dear maid is always eager to do whatever he asked of her without question. She squeezed his armored hand, "Rem shall do so with utmost diligence."

Warmly smiling, he returned an affectionate squeeze to her hand before releasing it. Meili thought he was going to kiss her first. He turned to Al, his tone taking a harsh frequency, **"Let's go."**

"Oh, thank god you're done!" Al said, slumping over in complete relief as he put his hand to his chest exaggeratingly, "Any further and I'm seriously gonna get told off by her for being later than allowed. C'mon, man, we gotta hurry."

If Emurdol could growl, he would have done so by now. He has no issue with Al, it's the way he prioritizes that woman's word that irks him, not even objecting or questioning it even _once_. The man even told him to go with the flow like he does. If the one-armed man could actually _suffer_ someone like that for as long as he could, he greatly wished to know just _how _he does it.

Watching Al walk for a distance away, not realizing that Emurdol is not behind him, the Priest sighed heavily once again before walking after him with full reluctance in his usually-monotonous body language. Viandegroc, who has taken the shape of the Handsome Boy, walked beside him, likely to act as someone speaking for him due to the latter's lack of speech. Mother was left behind, clearly indicating that she will be accompanying Meili to the audience, most likely as a precaution.

Yawning, stretching her hands up to the sky, Meili exhaled and took Rem's hand, asking her, "Shall we gooo?"

The maid nodded, squeezing the wyrmm's grasp, "Rem shall be with you all the way, Meili."

Turning to Mother, who stood as still as a statue, her skeletal visage covered by a blank mask, a simple curved white plate over her face, while the rest of her is covered by her light-eating robes hidden under a simple hooded cloak, concealing the entirety of her undead frame from top to bottom, Meili asked her, "Do you know where I'm supposed to goooo, Grandma?"

She gave a light nod.

Smiling, she took the construct's armored left hand with her free one and said, "Lead the way."

One more nod and the tall skeleton took gentle steps forward, her metallic grip on her granddaughter's little hand as gentle as if she was holding a kitten, leading Meili and Rem to the abandoned section of the Capital.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Emurdol gaped at what's in front of him, immeasurable disbelief and shock clouding over his entire face, and he felt his mind trying its utmost hardest to process just what the _fuck _is right in front of him. While Viandegroc is quite reserved in his reaction due to being a Flesh Golem, the fact that he's even _making _his face express shock simply exposes that he's equally overwhelmed at what he's seeing.

Parked on the side of the road was the most heavily-bejeweled carriage he has ever seen in his life, not even Pandemonium had the _balls _to have it in existence. The ornaments were impossible to count, golden leaves adorning the exterior, and even the fucking _wheels _have jewels encrusted in them. The ground dragon pulling it was equally ridiculous; crimson-scaled, _two-headed_ and sporting colorful feathers down its back. The reins are as intricately designed, bringing no end to the _nightmare_.

Sights like these was supposed to draw out Emurdol's bad side, but this level of opulence was so unfathomable that he has no idea how to react except stare.

"I feel ya, man." Al patted him on the shoulder in sympathy, drawing no reaction from him still.

The damn thing drew the shocked stares of the people passing by, and for the first time, he felt self-conscious in the prospect of being seen getting _inside_.

**"Aldebaran, just how the _fuck _can you _see_ yourself riding this….this…._thing_?"**

"Unfortunately, man, only the Princess would ride something this embarrassing in this big ol' Kingdom." He said before opening the door and stepping inside.

The only solace he could find was that Al understood him.

Through the new opening, seated in her lonesome on a custom seat was that cocky woman from yesterday, wearing an even more polished dress than before that gave more emphasis to her bosom, especially the wider view of her cleavage.

"Thee has't madeth me waiteth f'r quite some time than I did expect. Such insolence can cost thee dearly."

Taming his features, he didn't give her the satisfaction of a reply and instead entered in, his every step with the point of his stilts a loud stomp. It drew the displeasure on her face he was looking for, and Viandegroc followed after, bowing robotically to the woman and greeting, "Greetings. On his behalf, I thank you for inviting us in."

The woman eyed the handsome boy sharply, "Now I has't not did expect thee to accompany him."

"It is not allowed?" Though his speech is polite, everything behind it is laced with every lick of derision Sally and Viandegroc had against her. The Flesh Golem is emoting the most unnatural state of calmness in its entire being, making no effort to hide the fact that he is absolutely _not _human or even _alive_.

"Nay, I shalt allow it. It might grant me amusement if I doth."

Taking on the left corner of the seat, Emurdol sat down and Viandegroc took the space between him and Al. As soon as everyone is in place, the carriage began to move.

Very slowly. The typical speed of a horse-drawn carriage compared to a dragon-drawn one.

Emurdol's scowl grew even deeper. Al noticed his look and mentioned, "Appearance at the cost of speed, man. Easy to understand, eh?"

The fire in his green eyes glowed brighter than before, making his sneer further pronounced. Every second he spends inside this courage and he could feel his sanity degrading little by little. He was already starting to regret going along with Al's request.

"This carriage is pretty much asking to be robbed." Viandegroc commented harmlessly, crossing his arms while his dark eyes stared into space.

"Wouldn't be the first time, dude." Al nudged the boy with his fist, "I just go outside and swing my sword at 'em when the bad guys do show up."

Emurdol silently growled. _I wish a horde of zombies would come over and overrun this fucking thing._

"So, peasant." The woman suddenly began, facing Emurdol. "What be the purpose of thy riding in this carriage of mine?"

**"Your servant brought me here."**

"Nay. That was the trigger, but not the reason. I ask for the reason what thou has't to be in here."

Blinking once, he replied her simply, **"Because Al offered the means to reach the Castle. Against my better judgment, I chose to go along with him, which led me to here."**

"Correct. That is thy reason for being here. Even if thee aren't in this carriage, thee wouldst still findeth oth'r means to receiveth into the castle, yes?"

Emurdol closed his eyes, incapable of denying it. **"Indeed. I would try to break in among other means, but I would simply abandon the notion and instead do something else that may have a good use of my time."**

"That'd be a challenge, man." Al quipped in, "Since today's a special day, security's gonna be real strict and thorough. I betcha there's a lot of wards around to keep anybody from sneakin' in."

**"Like I said, I'd abandon the notion if it isn't possible."**

"And now to thee." The woman turned her attention to Viandegroc, "Why come along with him?"

"Because it is my duty." The Flesh Golem answered automatically.

"Of course, it is. A construct is naught but a slave to the one who made it."

Caution suddenly overtook Emurdol, turning to the woman with a held gaze that contained silent shock. Viandegroc simply stared with not much of a reaction, "So you know what I am."

"Indeed I do." Haughtily, she answered, a cocky smile adorning her beautiful features. "A lifeless doll, an extra pair of hands and legs with a mouth."

"Wait, what?" Al, however, was completely oblivious and only left surprised by the revelation, turning his black helm to the boy, "You….you're not alive?"

"How ridiculous of thee to be oblivious, Al. The signs are before thy eyes, with the unnatural twists of its face and the lightlessness of its eyes. 'Tis but a flesh puppet to the peasant."

"But Princess, it's just so convincing…..Dude…." Still taken off guard, Al slumped against his seat, "I know he's a necromancer and all but I didn't think that you'd be a reanimated zombie or something."

**"Do _not _call me a Necromancer!" **

Al flinched from the roar in his head and the baleful green glare in the Necromagus' eyes, raising his hand in surrender. "Whoops! Forgot, sorry."

Completely ignoring the heat that just erupted, the woman in red turned back to Emurdol. "And now, doth thee has't any idea wherefore this carriage is going to the Castle?"

Sighing, he replied, **"Obviously, for the Royal Selection."**

"Close enough. _Why_ must the carriage head there?"

Emurdol turned to Al, then to the spacious interior of the carriage that is as opulent as it is on the outside, then back to the woman in red, regarding her change of clothing and her despicable demeanor—the signs are quite obvious, including the ones from yesterday, especially Emilia's attitude towards her.

Even if the half-elf failed to tell him or Meili the whole story due to being interrupted, it's clear who she is.

**"Because you, are a candidate to the throne. Therefore, you must attend the Royal Selection."**

Red eyes narrowing, her smile became lustrous, "Mm, commendable. Thou art as perceptive as I expecteth thee to be." She turned to her companion, "Al."

"Yes'm." He nodded and gestured to the woman in red with his only hand, his voice becoming reverent, contrasting his usual tone, "Just as you figured, man. This young lady here is a candidate for the successor of the Kingdom of Lugnica. Lady Priscilla Barielle."

This woman, Priscilla, nodded in satisfaction to Al's words and addressed Emurdol again, "Hadst thee not did notice the obvious, I'd has't thee cutteth down bef're me f'r thy foolishness."

Emurdol scoffed, rolling his eyes. If anything, he'd like to see her try. Given the opportunity, he'll do what he can to _humble _this bitch. Unfortunately, the consequences actually _mattered _to him.

Viandegroc verbalized his Brother's thoughts, in the politest of tones as always, "Kindly expect the effort to be strenuous, for we will retaliate. Even if we have been struck down and died, the repercussions that comes after will lie solely on your shoulders."

"Well, thank goodness I didn't have to do anything." Al scratched the roof of his helmet, "I don't think we'd get the smell out, even if we cleared out the blood and guts."

"In that case, I'd simply arrange for a new carriage." Emurdol's eye twitched at the blatant overconsumption this woman is capable of, "Worry less about nonsense and focus more on mine own satisfaction."

Viandegroc raised a question, "Then what would be the use of bringing Brother and I along? You have business in the Castle and we have nothing to do with your case."

"Oh, but I do." Priscilla retorted, staring sharply at the handsome boy, "Bringing 'long with me the associates of the halfwit has more than special benefits for me."

Emurdol's eyes blazed, his sneer turning into sharp points as he straightened his back and put up his guard, **"Of course you can see through it."**

"Indeed." Darkly, the woman smiled, "The twit attempt'd to conceal herself with some pathetic rags. 'Tis rath'r fitting she did hide in a nook 'long the streets like she hath yest'rday. It holds justice to her public image."

Viandegroc's vessel remained calm amidst this mockery of their friend, "Are we brought to this carriage just to listen to you insult my friend?"

"I couldst has't alt'rnatives if thee wishes." The woman's aura darkened, and her presence exhumed a pressure that completely matches the size of her ego, forcing anyone with a weaker will to buckle from it. "I'd has't thee cornered, by taking thy whelp hostage, and blackmail the twit into abandoning the Royal Selection. Or I couldst behead thee, and presenteth it to her, declaring she be next. 'Tis a simple matt'r eith'r way, is't not?"

Emurdol stomped the floor of the carriage, cracking the wood underneath the carpet, standing at full height as he glared down on the impudent woman and sneered wildly, the eldritch voice screaming bloody murder, **"If you dare lay even a single finger on my daughter, I swear to the Dragon that you will crawl—"**

A blade is suddenly drawn close to Emurdol's neck, the hilt of the sword held by Al's only hand. "Lay off, man. We just got away from the guts spilling, don't make it happen again."

Viandegroc didn't sit idly by either, his right hand stretching straight towards the man's neck and gripping it, hanging the threat of crushing his entire windpipe over him. His head _split open_ from his right cheek, a second mouth connecting to his human one gaped with many sharp teeth jutting out in a disordered-fashion, his scalp pointing to the side. His human eyes melted, disappearing into the depths of flesh and leaving him eyeless, completely exposing his true self as an Abomination of witchbeast flesh.

All without leaving his seat.

"You already got how the Princess is, already, right? That's her default mode. Be a bigger man and accept it. If not….well, that's your funeral."

Emurdol gripped the blade Al held and _pulled _it closer to his neck, barely little space left between sharp steel and scarred flesh. His hair floated against unseen waves, his green eyes blazing like the fires of hell, and a silent growl escaped from his toothy jaw. His swamp green mana surrounded him like a plague as it seeped out of his form in preparation for violence, and it sucked Al's mana in the process.

**"I dare you, Aldebaran. I _fucking _dare you to drive this blade to my flesh and _see _what happens to you and everyone connected to this carriage, especially that little boy in the box seat when you threaten me."**

Just the slightest touch, even a minuscular _brush _of the steel against his flesh and five heads will fly off their necks for no reason. Meili may have Mutual Suffering as her favorite curse, but he perfected the technique to its limit, to better protect himself from those who would dare harm him and send their wrongdoings back at them.

Does a human born of the Old World have the _balls _to test a human born from **Hell**, however,_ especially _a Priest of the Serpent?

Then a woman laughed.

Al and Emurdol turned slowly to face Priscilla, guffawing delicately and covering her mouth with her hand, as if she had just watched the most ridiculous clown routine in front of her.

"Ah, this be a good day!" Her smile was worlds beyond, turning the poisonous flower she is into a gorgeous rose. "I brought thee to mine own wagon and hath entertained me very well. Thee shall receive mine own blessing, peasant."

"Uh, Princess, don'tcha realized what just happened?" Al's demeanor was quick to change, letting go of his blade and _leaving it to Emurdol's hand _to address her, Viandegroc's hand still on his neck, "I mean, I was about to get my neck smushed and I think I just got _cursed_."

"Oh, blubber, Al." The woman waved him off carelessly, "Just deal with it like thee usually doth."

"But I don't know how to dispel these things yet….."

Priscilla turned to the seated Flesh Golem, taking the form of its grotesque head in stride as she said, "As to the reasoneth why I hath brought thee two along, 'tis f'r mine own entertainment. I bethink it wouldst be more amusing to bringeth thee to the Ceremony than to useth thee as a hostage or f'r threats. That shall be mine own decision."

Emurdol had no way of comprehending such logic. Even when he had experience in Madness, none of them were ever this _high. _Not even _Greed_ of all people could match such a mindset.

Then she yawned magnificently, she continued, "Everything in this world exists to convenience me. Furthermore, I shalt decideth the course of whatever I wish. Whatever I decideth, it shalt be. Therefore, all I needeth to doth is decideth what shall entertain me and what shall not. There is inconvenience to me not."

When no one made a reply to her claims, she closed her eyes and reclined a bit backwards into her custom seat, making it clear that she's going to nap and ignore everything around her.

The two men stared for a few more moments before they turned to each other, one sat on his chair while the other glowered over him.

"Uh, ahem, can I have my sword back now?" Al asked awkwardly, as if what just happened between them didn't even happen.

Emurdol continued to stare, maintaining the fiery glare and the float of his hair, he nonetheless moved the hilt of the blade he held by the steel towards Al, and the latter grabbed the handle delicately before taking it off his armored hand. With a twirl, he sheathed it back to the scabbard behind his waist.

Noticing the mood, Viandegroc released Al's neck and retracted his extended arm back to his wide sleeve while his other hand holding the kitty mask moved to put it on his face, hide his eyeless visage.

Al looked up to Emurdol's gaze, still standing over him with his armored hands clenched tightly into fists, unmoving as a statue.

With his usual amiable tone that brought ease of mind to whoever listened, he told him, "You would'a done the same, man, so let's bygones be bygones and stop burning a hole in me?"

Emurdol had nothing to say against that.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

When she heard the soft footfalls, Zakurah finally opened her eyes from her meditative prayers and turned her eyes to the alleyway where the sound is coming from, wrenching her sword of masterful-make off the ground and adjusting the kite shield on her left arm, adorned with the Cross of St. Peter. As promised, she came back to this place prepared, wearing her whitesteel armor, now granting her with every benefit her training had borne fruit to.

And to her surprise, a little one came out of the alleyway, accompanied by a delicate-looking maidservant. The latter eyed her emotionlessly but cautiously.

The child's appearance, however, gave Zakurah hints. For one thing, she had silver hair that seemed to reflect light like steel; her skin was so white it wouldn't be odd to mistake her for a corpse if she was asleep; and her green eyes _glowed _under the shadow of her hood, as if fire from the green hells was trapped in them.

_One of his kind? _Zakurah wondered if it was the case. She is fully aware that society of the Underground is fundamentally different from regular civilization, but she didn't think children of such origins would be capable of handling meetings like this. "Have you come as a representative?" She asked harmlessly.

"You can say that." The child's voice was adorably sweet, and it could have compelled the weak-willed to squeal over her. "Papa was very busy so he sent me insteaaad."

_The Hero has a _daughter_? That's new._

"I can understand." Though her sword and shield aren't sheathed and strapped to her back just to keep her guard up, she made sure she didn't come off as antagonizing with them in her hands.

Stood in the same place Gluttony was yesterday, the child stood primly, her hands together in front of her waist and asked, "Is your name Zakurah?"

The Holy Knight didn't so much as blink, taking no surprise from having her name already known despite never telling it. In her experience since meeting one for the first time, Priests of the Serpent tend to be full of surprises when they aren't trying to kill you. "I am. And you are?"

The emotionless visage the girl wore melted, revealing an amicable smile as she removed her hood and left her silver head bare to the world, "My name is Meili Sinnuldel, adopted daughter of Emurdol Viandegroc." She took out a bony wand strapped to her belt and it clicked a familiar rhythm that Necromagi tend to do when they greet someone before the child bowed.

_So it _is _Emurdol Viandegroc. This makes it all fortunate, and equally dreading for me._

"Well met, Meili. It is my honor to meet the daughter of the Hero." She bowed back, then turned to the maidservant that watched the proceedings quietly. "And who shall be this lady that accompanies you?"

The maidservant turned to Meili, which the latter nodded and the former performed an intricate curtsy, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Zakurah. Rem is my name, a maid of the house of the Margrave Roswaal L. Mathers."

"She's Papa's favorite, you knooow?" Meili added with a teasing smile, and the maidservant blushed a beet red. It's rather cute, she can admit. "And Zakurah, can I ask a favoooor?" She requested as she removed the glove she wore, exposing _brown _flesh that contrasted everything past the wrist.

"What is it?"

She raised the brown hand at eye level, curling the fingers into a fist. It _bulged_. "Raise your shield."

As fast as sound, her kite shield that hung at her side was swiftly lifted up to cover her front, and a solid thud of flesh meeting hard steel erupted right behind it, creating a loud _gong_ sound. Even with her blessed strength, that strike could have snapped someone's spine in half or even pierce right through the abdomen.

She marveled at this child's power, and it baffled her that such a girl at her age could move so quickly from a few meters away. Looking over the shield, she found the child caressing the steel and tracing the outline of the inverted cross, leaving no evidence of her recently punching it. "Your shield is fluffyyy."

"Pardon?"

"Are you fluffy tooo?" Meili suddenly went around her shield and began feeling up her whitesteel armor, oblivious of the discomfort she's causing.

Alarmed at the sudden close-contact, Zakurah was forced to take a few steps back, "W-wait, what are you doing?"

"So this is what Holy feels liiike? I should've knooown." Her right hand continued to caress the curve of the steel, partially form-fitting but granting enough mobility on all of her joints.

Zakurah turned to the maidservant, who watched the proceedings passively, "Um, is this normal for the child?"

Rem shook her head, her blue locks swaying silkily, "Not actually. It just seems that you are the first person she could ever feel with her right hand besides her father."

_So the hand cannot feel anything?_

She turned to the child, who was now feeling her breast plate and reached for the steel collar that protected her neck. Trying in vain to reach anywhere above it by hopping, Meili's olive green eyes looked up to her own, "Come closer."

Unsure, Zakurah complied, leaning slightly downwards and the brown hand reached to caress her cheek, pinching her flesh and tracing her eyebrows before stroking her braided blonde hair. A few more moments of Meili petting and squeezing her hair, her other hand holding the glove remained hanging by her side, the child finally let her hand down, taking a few steps back as she put her glove back on and crossed her arms behind her back.

"So, you got questions, don't yoouu?"

_Such a strange child_. Gathering her person together, Zakurah sheathed her sword and replied, "Yes. I have quite a lot of them, actually. Would you mind answering them for me?"

In unison, the child and the maidservant turned their heads to face the right. The Holy Knight turned to look as well, a rundown building that received damages from yesterday's bout of combat, barely standing up from its foundations. But nothing out of the ordinary is to be seen.

_Oh my, did Raeburn give himself away? I thought he said he was good at hiding and surprise attacks._

"Is something wrong?"

Meili turned to Rem and beckoned her over, which the latter quickly complied and jogged to her side. Wrapping one hand around her waist, receiving an arm around her shoulder in turn, the child turned to Zakurah and said, "Before we do, I'd like you to meet someone."

Right afterwards, the walls of the same rundown building suddenly _exploded_, sending dust and chunks of cement flying to their location, accompanied by the sound of a body flying out of it. In honed reflexes, Zakurah drew out her sword and immediately moved to shield the pair from harm. Just in time for that body to land on the ground. Stood in front of them, her shield raised high to protect her head and her body squared evenly to take the brunt of the storm in their place, she awaited the stone to land.

Except, none did. She could hear the mortar crashing against a solid surface in front of her but she felt no impact on any part of her body, not even her shield.

Looking over her shield, there was an interweave of giant rib bones jutting out of the ground and forming a wide wall in front of her, the top curling forwards to cover her and the two behind her. The sound of stony floor tiles clacking from behind drew her attention, making her turn around and look at the person that happened to be blown out of the building, who happened to be wearing a cloak over the _darkest _robes she has ever seen that it does not seem to reflect any light as they rose up from a newly-made crater on the ground, the person's visage concealed by a blank faceless mask.

"My Grandma."

When Meili suddenly indicated the masked person's name, the familiar sound of chains rustling as it extended out of Raeburn's club triggered her body into battle but stopped herself as Meili and Rem nonchalantly raised a hand, silently telling her to hold still. The cloaked figure rolled to the side as the octagon cylinder lined with studs and spikes crashed onto her former position.

The cloak separating in half to reveal a _skeletal _ribcage, _four _armored hands emerged from the opening, the second pair coming from the chest, grabbed the chain and yanked the other end of it, drawing out a scream from the building that had just exploded behind the wall of bones. As Raeburn's voice quickly got closer to the skeleton, Zakurah saw a brief moment of him flying through the air as he held on to the shaft of his club before he was violently clotheslined by an armored arm, his entire upper body flipping backwards from the blow and _slamming _him to the earth.

As quick as an eye-blink, the four-armed skeleton quickly whirled the chains around his neck, but Raeburn quickly slipped the shaft of his club into the loop before it was tightened, saving him from the worst of the garrote maneuver as he held the handle with both hands and pushed back against the enclosing metal. The skeleton wasn't having that, however, as its other pair of arms it had grabbed the handle and began pulling it towards his neck, an extra tool to strangle him with aside from the chain.

The club's magic stones embedded in the handle began glowing, readying an algorithm that can grant him escape, the length of a ghostly tentacle rose from the ground—

"Stop it!"

Once again, just before Zakurah could move against their advice, the skeleton released the chains and Raeburn's club before pushing him face-first to the ground, the ghostly tentacle disappearing into thin air, complying to Meili's command without a second wasted as it stood up from its kneeling position and walked over to the child and the maidservant in a polished gait, as if it hadn't just tried to kill her friend literally a few seconds ago, the lack of visible feet thanks to the light-eating cloak making it appear to be gliding across the ground instead.

Zakurah regained her composure and jogged over to Raeburn's exhausted form, ignoring the figure as she sheathed her sword and strapped the shield to her back before moving to get the chains off him. "The best at surprise attacks, aren't you, my friend?"

Despite nearly getting strangled, his response was quite casual and sarcastic after coughing a few times, "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking, Zakurah." Pulling the club out of the loop, he moved to get rid of the chains wrapped around his neck with Zakurah's help, "That thing surprised _me_. Shit."

"Language." The Holy Knight reprimanded, getting the last loop of the chain off his neck. "You're in the presence of a lady and a child."

As Zakurah pulled him up to his feet, he moved to brush off the dust stuck on his shoulder as he cleared his throat, rubbing his throat. "I'd do that but I just got attacked, you see."

The Holy Knight picked up the shaft, the chain connected to the top of the gothic mace scattered in a pile on the floor, and held it out to him, "Maybe it wasn't wise to hide in the first place, expecting to be attacked."

"Says _you_, wearing a full suit of whitesteel armor." Raeburn retorted, grabbing the club out of her hands and swung it sideways, the chains lashing in flight to the same direction before the entire length began retracting into the opening at the top of the mace, the octagon cylinder at the end flying after it. "Here we are, expecting the Hero of Pandemonium to come over and instead we get his daughter and a cute maid."

The entire length of the chains now inside the voluminous depths of the shaft, a loud metallic _clang_ erupted when the cylindrical head slammed against the top of the gothic mace, the force of the collision making him twirl the weapons stylishly before resting it atop his shoulder.

Turning to face the skeleton that attacked him, who happened to be standing right next to the little one, Zakurah asked, "Would you mind explaining what's going on?"

Meili turned to face Raeburn with an unsettling gaze and smile, a rather coquettish smile that isn't appropriate for her age and answered, "I felt somebody else watching me so I had Grandma bring him ooouut." One of the skeleton's hands moved to remove its faceless mask and it presented a skeletal grin, a pair of haunting blue light found in the void of its sockets. The child gestured to the man with her gloved hand, "Apparently, he's a tough cookie. Now, are _you _going to tell me why he's hiding in the meeting plaaaace?"

Zakurah and Raeburn shared a glance before she answered, "My friend here didn't anticipate the meeting to be civil as Gluttony said it would so he volunteered to come and took precautions in case conflict arises. Also, we have expected your father to come instead."

The girl harrumphed, "Lucky for you two, _I'm_ here! I won't make fights or anything so there's nothing to worry abooout." Turning to a chunk of stone that seemed like it would be a nice place to sit on, especially when it's under the shade of a building's shadow, she pulled the maidservant along with her and sat down on it together. "Now, I'm sure you all have questions so get a seat and we can talk. When it's over, I'll treat us to luuunch."

A _child _of all people treating her and her companion to lunch? It's something Zakurah has never heard of happening in her life. Not even the richest child in Pandemonium would do the same.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Holding both his forearms behind his back, hood down and revealing his silver hair, he maintained a dignified aura around his form as he walked across the corridors of the Castle, decorated by paintings of golden-haired and red-eyed nobles and other works of art. Viandegroc carried the same gait, his hood down as well, revealing his bald head, wearing the same posture as him and his kitty mask emulated the emptiness of his visage just like Emurdol's stoic face. Side by side, their movements so graceful they seem to be gliding across the floors as they followed after Priscilla and Al, the same thought ran across their heads.

_Fucking rich idiots._

Emurdol ignored the soldiers lined on the left and right sides of the corridors, raising their swords in salute towards the group as they passed them by, ruminating that the Mansion is a lot more humble compared to this _uselessly _extravagant hallway. Though it isn't as worse as being inside that atrocious carriage, this Castle is still sending endless amounts of annoyance across his nerves.

Eventually, the end of the corridor is reached to a gigantic pair of doors that seemed to reach all the way to the high ceiling. The doors are _heavily _decorated with gold, and he glared a gigantic hole at it.

Stood in front of the door was a large heavily-armored soldier, who stepped up to Priscilla and saluted her with a sword raised. Removing his helm, revealing a face that seemed to be carved from stone, telling of a man that has seen great battles in his time, he looked over the woman and the others with a sophisticated air.

"We have been expecting you, Lady Priscilla." His voice was low but deep with authority.

Priscilla haughtily nodded at his greetings, slightly turning to the people behind her with her head. "They art with me. One is mine own knight, one is a puppet, the other….a comedian."

Emurdol turned a burning glare to her along with a malicious sneer, sharp teeth showing. Viandegroc merely turned his kitty mask to face the woman, indicating indignance on his Brother's by the mere action.

The knight's face didn't twitch the slightest despite what's happening.

"Comedian, is it?"

"Aye, a comedian. A clown bearing the exalted duty of ent'rtaining me with his tricks and stunts. His leash in mine own hands, so thee need not be w'rry. Certes, thee doth not mind?"

The Knight appraised the two cloaked men and Al, and Emurdol saw his blue eyes twinkle.

"I cannot detect any dangerous magic." Emurdol inwardly sighed in relief for releasing the curse he put on Al ahead of time. This Knight would have noticed it and made things complicated. "Is that sword the only one you carry, Ser Knight?"

It took Al a couple of seconds to realize that he's being addressed, "Oh, you mean _me_. Yeah, yeah, just this one. I see any moustache-twirling bad guys, I'll chop 'em in half with just one hand."

The knight didn't go along with his playful demeanor, speaking in the most professional of tones, "Should an incident occur, please concentrate on protecting your Mistress, Lady Priscilla. Leave the rest to us guard."

"Righto."

The knight turned to Viandegroc and Emurdol. "You, Ser, do you have any weapons in your person?"

Though only the Flesh Golem was addressed, both men nodded in perfect unison anyway, and Viandegroc replied to him, "We do. Though you might not be able to notice it, my Brother here carries two sickles. I myself have a knife on my chest."

"I see. May I please have an explanation regarding the surrounding magic on your person? It seems as though you are a fog with it."

This knight could see magic, Emurdol took note of that. He could see that Viandegroc is just a mass of flesh held up by dark magic. "If you hold on to your composure, I will gladly do so." His leathery hand reached up to his kitty mask and nonchalantly removed it, blatantly exposing his faceless visage to the knight. "I am but an automaton of flesh and magic. A tool, if you may."

Emurdol marveled at the knight's composure, for his carved-like-stone face didn't seem to move or twitch in the slightest as he gazed at the Flesh Golem's true form. A testament to his years of service as a battle-hardened soldier. "I understand now. You may put on your mask again." He dipped his head to the nodding Viandegroc and shifted his gaze to the giant doors, which slowly began to open. "Everyone is already waiting inside. Please make haste."

"I am superior, so 'tis fitting the masses waiteth f'r me. The reverse is impermissible, howev'r."

Another _unfathomable _sentence out of Priscilla's mouth and Emurdol could feel his patience reaching the breaking point. Once again, he damned himself for following along Al's request.

As she stepped through the door, drawing all eyes from the people inside on her, Al followed after her without hesitation. Emurdol and Viandegroc remained in place by the door, glaring at her back.

"Please enter." Politely, the Knight urged the two.

Nodding to the Knight in courtesy, the two glided into the most enormous room that they've ever been since entering this Castle. Glittering adornments on the walls, extravagant lighting from the high ceiling, a red carpet spread out on the floor and reaching to the other end of the room, upwards to the dais, and at the end of it was a large throne that took the shape of a dragon. The Seat of Power. If a ruler were to sit on it, it would seem as if the dragon rested on their shoulder, regally looming over its subjects alongside them.

On the right side of the carpet, he found a crowd of men that obviously looked like civil officials, nobles of higher ranks, judging from their ceremonial garbs and attires. To the left side, they were clearly the Royal Knights, having the same attire as the knight named Julius yesterday. Protectors of the Ruler, the elite soldiers of the Kingdom.

In the center of the room, separate from the two crowds and stood in a line before the dais, are clearly the candidates for the throne, given by their bearing and their distinct attires. One, a woman of dark green hair donning the uniform of a military man, taut and dignified in posture. Another, a rather petite girl with fluffy purple hair while covered in generous amounts of fur and having a comically large handbag hanging by her side. The identity of the silver-haired figure with a crown of flowers on her head among them never escaped his mind. Surprised at the opening of the large doors, the Dear Girl immediately found him, saying his name in disbelief, never expecting to find him here.

"Emurdol?"

_Oh dear._

Steeling himself, he took a couple more steps forward until he was a couple feet away from the half-elf, crossing his arms behind his back, with Viandegroc standing right beside him. "I reckon you did not expect to find us here, did you?"

Still under shock, Emilia barely shook her head, "N…no…what...what are you—"

Something soft suddenly bumped Emurdol from behind, slim white arms wrapped around his chest and neck, a head resting on his shoulders and the _abominable _smell of perfume, followed by that _unfathomable _voice, "What art thee doing, staring at mine own s'rvant, halfwit?"

This time, Emurdol stopped being patient. Eyes glowing in complete malice, his hair floating and his sharp sneer exposed widely, his form suddenly became tinged in an inky black, reflecting no light and seeming to spread across his body like floating black water. When his pale skin was nowhere to be seen, the green in his eyes blotted out in his sockets by the phenomena, he easily slipped out of the damning woman's grasp as if he was made of air.

**"Keep your _fucking _hands to yourself, Priscilla!"**

Screaming a monstrous roar in her head, no one else but Emilia and her hearing it, the distorting apparition of ink slickly floated over to the half-elf's back, hovering over her protectively like a thundercloud. Viandegroc didn't spare a moment to get away from the woman, gliding over to Emilia's side and turning around to send an unseen glare from behind his kitty mask. The blatant rejection made Priscilla stomp a heel, bringing an immense pleasure to Emurdol's mind as her red eyes narrowed in displeasure. The entire scene was drawing more than a few stares from both the Royal Knights and the nobles.

Before any flame could fly out of her mouth, however, a familiar drawl that had the power to send chills down anyone's spine suddenly intervened.

"My, oh _myyyyy_, Lady Priscilla!" Roswaal stepped up with a smile on his face, wearing a formal attire just like the other nobles. "I am dreadfully sorry for the trouble my _assooociates_ has caused you. I send you my sincere gratitude for looking _aaaaafter_ them in the premises of the Castle. I hope you haven't given him too much of a trouble than he could _taaake_."

Priscilla turned her glare over to the clown of a Lord, "And so the swindl'r steps f'rward. I hasn't any recollection of such a thing. I has't pick'd up those peasants myself. And what proof doth thee has't to proveth that he is associat'd to thee?"

"_Ooooh_, but I do. I have been _loooong_ in the practice of making my associates carry their allegiance in their person at all times." Roswaal addressed the two individually, "_Boooys_, please show her the crest."

Emurdol became material again, the inky shroud turning solid and taking color, his black skeleton stilts thudding against the carpet as he took controlled but labored breaths, and he quickly showed the embroidered hawk on the left chest of his robes, opening the bone armor beforehand. Viandegroc showed his from the inside of his dark red robes, revealing the skin of his upper chest in the process.

Priscilla's response was to snort, "A cheap trick. Well, fine. Toying with the comedian and the imbecile hast driven much of mine own tedium 'long the way. And besides, mine own vassal hath asked it of me."

Emurdol turned a look of reserved shock towards Al, completely caught off-guard that his entire time of being forced to suffer her presence for almost an entire 30 minutes just happened to be _his _idea.

"Princess, you promised not to say anything…."

"Be not conc'rn'd about dram things. Thee'll nev'r groweth tall'r otherwise."

"I'm pushin' 40, there's no way I'm gonna get any taller…."

Instantly silenced by Priscilla's look, the latter strode forward to the line of candidates, forgetting Emurdol and Viandegroc's existence, including Emilia's as she passed by the stiff half-elf as if she wasn't there. Al turned to the Necromagus and whispered, "Listen, man, I just wanna talk to ya again. Honest. Sorry if it didn't come off that way during the trip…."

Emurdol glared harshly before clicking his tongue, shaking his head. Viandegroc verbalized his Brother's thoughts, "_Insufferable_ woman." This time, his tone did _not _hide the spite that had been pent up since meeting her.

"I must _saaaay_, Ser Emurdol." Roswaal piped in, "To be found by Lady Priscilla along the way, you are _quuuiiite_ the magnet for the most eccentric of characters. I wonder what could have haaaaaappened had someone else found you."

**"I didn't even want to be here in the first place, Roswaal." **The voice in Roswaal's head wasn't calm, the emotion of annoyance still lingering behind it, **"She forced me on her _fucking _carriage that I had _every _urge to destroy it and throw its remnants to the poor. My patience is at its fucking end!"**

He expected Roswaal to laugh, as this sort of behavior was completely common since knowing him for a month, but instead, he was shocked, blue and yellow eyes wide. "You did not come through the gate?"

Emurdol's annoyance suddenly disappeared, suddenly confused by the Lord's behavior. Viandegroc slowly turned to face Roswaal, the kitty mask no longer appearing to be innocent as the aura of caution exhumed out of the Flesh Golem. **"Roswaal…."** This time, the voice only sounded in his head and no one else's, especially Emilia. **"…_why_ did you think I would come here?"**

That shocked look was quickly tamed, the same joking smile back on his face, "Well, aren't _yoouuu_? Isn't one of your agendas is to _knooow_ about Emilia's adversaries? Considering your character since I've known you, it would not be _surpriiising_ if you would try to sneak in to the Ceremony, considering that the other candidates will be present."

Emurdol cannot deny that, as he _did _plan to break in, but what did not sit right with him was that Roswaal expected him to _actually _go through with it, even though doing so would have made a lot of trouble, not just for him but for Emilia. Shouldn't the Lord know that he considers the risks and consequences of his actions before taking them? Didn't he say that to Emilia in the Mansion when the emissary came?

"Emurdol." A bell-like voice drew his attention away from the strange occurrence. He turned to Emilia, a look of concern clouding her face as she held his shoulder. "Are you alright? Did she do anything bad to you or Uncle?"

Emurdol released a sigh through his teeth, practically seething, **"I wish I could tell you, but I would rather be silent. What matters is that she's gone."**

"Not to worry, Emilia." Viandegroc stepped up behind her, squeezing her shoulder with his leathery hand and nodding in assurance, "I watched over him and nothing went too far. Let us simply rejoice over the fact that nothing bad happened."

"But what about your audience?" She reminded, and the concern in her amethyst eyes grew, "Aren't you supposed to meet with someone? What about Little Meili, won't her body suffer if she wasn't close to you?"

"We have rectified that ahead of time." Viandegroc assured, turning to Emurdol. "Niece went to meet that person in Brother's place. Rem also went along with her so everything will be fine."

"Really?"

Viandegroc didn't answer, leaving it to Emurdol as his word would be far more convincing, **"She drank a drop from the Rejuvenation Elixir. The Rot will not touch her for an entire day."**

"Oh…." Relief came over her, placing a hand to her chest. Being around during Meili's potion-making ventures in her room a few weeks ago and having a strange fascination in watching the wyrmm work, Emilia was slightly versed with the names of the many liquids in Emurdol's inventory. "Thank goodness." Then a grim light overtook her eyes again as she faced him, "Wait, what did Roswaal mean by you sneaking in to the Castle?

Just as he was about to repeat himself, a clear voice suddenly echoed from the front of the Throne. "All have been assembled. The Council of Elders may enter."

All eyes turned to the giant double doors as they opened once again, the knight stationed at the door leading a group of elderly men wearing regal robes into the chambers. Emurdol quickly identified them as the Wise Men that managed the Kingdom in the deceased King's place. For one thing, the Wise Man at the front of the line after the knight carried a bearing that doesn't say 'decrepit' but rather 'dignified'. His white beard was so long it nearly touched the ground, his back was perfectly straight too, and the sharp light of his eyes fit his aura very well.

"The Wise Men." Viandegroc remarked under his breath.

Al gently tapped Emurdol's shoulder and pointed at the front of the reassembled formation of Royal Knights. "It's time, man. Let's go line up over there. Bring your bro too."

Emurdol frowned at his suggestion. Viandegroc asked in his stead, "Is that even allowed, Al?"

Roswaal replied, "Well, the proper thing to do would be to _eeeescort_ you both out, but as this will be amusing, you two _maaay_ go with him."

Emilia was not having the same idea, turning to the clown, "Roswaal, what are you saying? If they stay, they might—"

"Unfortunately, Lady Emilia, this is not the time or place for arguments. The Ceremony is beginning. To the Center."

Roswaal's lack of drawl and his tense features left her no room to have any more say to what's happening.

Emurdol reached forward and placed a hand on her free shoulder, the other still occupied by Viandegroc's hand, **"We can talk later, I promise. For now, focus on what you must do."**

The Flesh Golem drew his hand back and let it hang beside him, "This is your moment, Emilia."

Emilia stared, conflicted but quickly agreed to the notion that they have all the time to talk later, so she nodded, composed herself and returned to the line of candidates.

Roswaal went to his place among the nobles, Emurdol and Viandegroc followed after Al's lead as he walked to the front of the line of Knights, arms crossed behind their backs and carrying a dignified aura despite having darker appearances than anyone else in the room with very few exceptions.

Reaching the front of the line, a rather familiar face was there, smiling at him brightly and amicably, his recognizable red hair and captivating sky blue eyes recalling the identity of Reinhardt van Astrea back to Emurdol's mind. "So you did come, Emurdol."

**"Ser Reinhardt." **He held out his right hand to the Knight and the Sword Saint promptly took it, shaking hands in greetings. Emurdol managed to hold down his shock at the _mountainous _amount of power this man had. **"I've been looking for you since yesterday."**

Thankfully, the Knight isn't surprised by the monstrous voice in his head and instead taking it in stride, replying without a beat lost, "Well, you have to forgive me. I have been busy with preparations for the Ceremony, you see. I hope my lack of presence at your request didn't bring too much of a trouble."

Emurdol shook his head.

Reinhardt turned his eyes to the Flesh Golem, "I see you brought company with you. May I know his name?"

Giving Viandegroc a prompting nod, the latter lightly clapped the rhythm of greetings and bowed with a hand to his chest, "Greetings. My name is Viandegroc, his Brother."

Wearing a friendly smile, he bowed politely in turn, "It is an honor to meet you, Ser Viandegroc. It must be a blessing to have a magnificent man like Emurdol to be your brother, isn't it?"

Emurdol huffed at the rather _sincere _praise. It's truly reminding him of that Idiot, Pericus. If the Holy Knight he was supposed to meet this day _actually _turned out to be Zakurah, he can perfectly see that bastard's aged face smiling smugly for winning the bet. If he meets the pacifistic knight's apprentice at any point of his life, he will _owe_ Pericus.

"Yohoo, Emewdul!" Suddenly, a cutesy call accompanied by a smile and a wave occurred right behind him, making him turn around. His reaction was to frown exasperatingly. "Hey, what's with the frownies there? Aren'tcha glad to see _meow_?"

He shook his head.

It's the demihuman emissary, the supposed Greatest Healer of the Capital. And to his slight surprise, he found her wearing a Royal Knight's regalia, one of female design and a skirt to accompany it. Instead of a sword at her hip, she had a dagger instead. He didn't think that such a personality happened to be one of the Ruler's Protectors.

Noticing a blur of purple on his peripheral vision, he turned to look at its source and it happened to Julius, who nodded politely to him in greetings. So many familiar faces at arm's reach.

He returned the courtesies.

"Ah, I see you have acquainted yourself with Julius as well." Reinhardt remarked, noticing the exchange.

"They met yesterday." Viandegroc told.

"Indeed we have." Julius replied, turning to Viandegroc. "Though, I don't remember seeing you back then, my good Ser."

"Consider me an extra pair of hands and legs. What my Brother does or knows, it extends to me as well."

"Very well." He bowed elegantly, down in the same manner he did to Emilia yesterday. "I am Julius Euclius of the Royal Knights. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, to your Brother, and….to the good knight beside him."

His pompous introduction did _not _sit right with Emurdol's liking again.

Languidly, Al replied to him, "Hey, don't get stuck on the formalities, alright? I ain't a good knight or anything so don't bother. I'm uh….whatchamacallit—a common cutthroat. I'm not one of the high and mighty like you."

Emurdol's opinion for Al has grown back up after having it plummet back in that _monstrous _carriage.

"The gentlemen of the Council of Elders and the candidates have been assembled. If I may be so bold, I, Captain of the Royal Knights, Marcus, shall oversee the proceedings."

Noting its beginning, Emurdol and Viandegroc adjusted themselves into attention just like the rest of the knights behind them, crossing their arms behind their backs and standing straight, unmoving like statues and stone. Fitting for dignified Priests of the Serpent.

Reinhardt stood to his right, at the very edge of the front row. Emurdol stood next to him, taking steady but imperceptible breaths. Al stood at the Necromagus' left, casual in posture as always. Viandegroc stood at the chap's left, very still. Right behind the first two, the Healer and Julius stood at attention, dignified as their uniform signifies.

Throughout, Emurdol could not stop being stiff, feeling that the worst is about to come. For some reason or another, his concern for Emilia cannot leave his mind in anyway.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Hmm…so you guys _did _chaaaange." She leaned to Rem's shoulder, appreciating the soft pats on her hair. "Papa's friend really made good on his promise."

"God has taken him to His Kingdom for his efforts." Solemnly, Zakurah bowed in honor of him, "From the fruits of my Master's labors, we will reform the Holy Knights and do what we should have been doing ever since the Church formed us."

"I'm a little disheartened that I didn't get to see it happen though." Raeburn commented, bouncing his heel against the ground while resting his club on his lap as he sat on a chair made out of bones. "I would have liked to join Pericus's crusade, just to get back at the bastards who made my village suffer."

A leer made its way to Meili's face, her left hand holding Rem's right as their interlocked grasp rested atop their laps. "Papa might have did that for you, considering he killed a lot of Holy Knights before coming here."

Rem passively looked at Zakurah's face. Not a twitch on her face, "Something for me to be grateful for. Their lesser numbers must have made my Master's crusade easy."

"A _bloodless _crusade." The man shook his head in disapproval, though the smile on his face emanated admiration. "Pericus is a madman, walking in there and swinging that tower shield left and right, incapacitating every Holy Knight that came at him before killing _only _the Cardinal."

Rem easily caught on to the implication of _not_ killing assailants, aiming only to wound than kill, bringing even more strain on the person's body. "But the knight overexerted himself to the point of death, didn't he?"

"Yes." Zakurah nodded, "I was there, hiding from the conflict and watched as my Master fought knight after knight with his shields, forcing his body to its very limit, _never _killing even a single one of them. Granted, he did break their bones, but they never died. They lived long enough to see the poison and lies the Cardinal has been feeding them before my Master killed him. I was able to comfort him until his final breath. At that point, I took his armor, his shield, his legacy, and I led the reformation of the Holy Knights, submitting ourselves to the Humility that truly defines a holy man and woman. 5 years later, our efforts have shown when the populace is slowly opening their hearts to us again."

"And what of Papa's kind? _My_ kind, to be specifiiic." Meili asked.

Zakurah huffed and chuckled, "Ever since the Hero's exploits, they are now treated the same way as elephants. They are admired and marveled from afar if they are ever seen, but are treated with proper respect when they approach human contact. Granted, not everyone likes them but the common instinct to _attack _them on sight no longer exists, unless they are inclined to suicide, of course."

Rem began smiling, and the sight of it captivated Raeburn, "Ser Emurdol is truly amazing." Among other things the Necromagi family has shared with her, she is trusted enough with the knowledge of Emurdol being from beyond the Great Waterfall.

"How about me? Am I amaziiing?" Meili turned to face Rem, her signature sweet smile worn on her face.

The maid pulled the child close and kissed her forehead and nose, drawing out a giggle from the wyrmm, "Rem thinks you are magnificent, Meili."

Meili beamed as they put their foreheads together, having Rem's mana drained and replenished at the same time under the wyrmm's hand. A rather satisfying sensation.

Returning to the other two, they noticed that the standing knight and the seated man were cooing over the two with their eyes, smiling warmly at their very intimate exchange. "Oh, ignore us. Please go on." Zakurah told.

"I'll be stating the obvious here, but you two are so sweet." Raeburn pointed out, resting his chin on the pommel of his club as its business end rested on the ground. "It's a bit hard to believe that you two are quite close to the psycho-faced guy who nearly killed me."

"Ser Emurdol simply had no time to show it back in Pandemonium." Rem justified, her free hand automatically reaching up to touch her lips, having just been kissed by him not too long ago, making her blush even more.

Raeburn noticed the implication, bringing even more disbelief.

"In here, he's all hugs and kisses with uuuus~" Meili can sympathize with him. Who her Father was before coming to this world where he grew and matured was _very _different. Being in a world where he doesn't have to look out for himself too often changed him. Pandemonium is too full of backstabbers and monsters, such things can warp a man's growth, no matter how old.

"Is that so?" Zakurah asked rhetorically, "And it's only a month since each of you meet him? I could only imagine how the first meetings went."

The bright atmosphere surrounding the two girls suddenly dimmed, and Raeburn noticed it quickly before their body languages and faces shifted. Rem's mien fell, looking down to the floor while Meili's smile became venomous, showing more sharp teeth than necessary for a smile to allow, and her eyes glowed a malignant light of green.

In a voice devoid of its sweet pitch, a cold droll escaped Meili's lips, "_Not _the way you think, Miss Knight."

The Holy Knight quickly noticed her mistake, bowing her head apologetically, "Not well, I take it. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

However, Rem was the first to recover, returning that captivating smile on her face that wouldn't have existed if not for the bad things that had happened, "But…if it weren't for them, we wouldn't have gotten close to each other as we are now."

She looked at her joined hands with Meili, with the same girl who was part of the cause of her suffering before the fifth day of Emurdol's stay. She squeezed the hand and brought it to her lips, giving it a kiss, projecting her love through it.

She is firm towards the undeniable fact. This wouldn't have been possible without him.

"Ser Emurdol….saved us both."

Silence was held, leaving the two to think over her words. Meili pulled Rem's palm to her lips and idly nibbled on it, blowing a light raspberry on random intervals. The maid stroked her silver hair, lithe fingers easily sliding through the silky tresses.

Raeburn finally broke the silence, his tone careful and considerate, "Hey, Meili, I've been meaning to ask."

Olive green orbs turned to face him.

"That one. Your….'Grandma', I mean." He gestured to the hooded skeleton, still as a statue and have watched the conversation play out since the beginning, and it turned its visage to face the man. Nonplussed by its blue light stare, he asked, "The last time I saw your Pa, he had six arms in his person. I thought he was actually born with them but I eventually found out in the midst of battle that he's actually _wearing_ a skeleton. Could this be that one?"

"Mm hm."

"Huh…." He quirked a peculiar eyebrow, marveling at how such a feat could be managed. "….so how'd they end up separating? What's the history behind it?"

"Pfft!" Meili nearly broke out laughing, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. Clearly, the man is trying to avert the two girl's minds away from the recent topic that they didn't want to discuss any further than Rem had, only to unintentionally lead them right back into it. The rough quality of the child's mirth indicated bitterness, an attempt to drown out the memory resurfacing to her consciousness.

Zakurah immediately got the clue when she saw the troubled look on the maidservant's face, "My friend, I think you should just shut up. This is the second time now."

The look of regret was clear on Raeburn's face, but he took the time to shoot an exasperated look towards the Holy Knight's direction, "You did it first!"

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

A yellow dress that rivaled Beatrice's own attire in terms of extravagance, bright golden hair that was scrupulously arranged sparkled against the lighting like shiny metal, the priceless ruby necklace that hung from a choker around her slim neck matched the strong fire in her red eyes and the look of dignity on her face—she looked _nothing _like the Felt he met back on the Slums.

Scruffy hair, dressed in unwashed rags, and having a snaggletooth smile on her face: such was the little one he knew on the first day of this world. This young lady was _dazzling._

He heard that Reinhardt had taken her to custody, but never in Emurdol's worst assumptions would he ever think that _she _would end up being dressed up as a candidate for the Seat of Power.

The fact that her physical features looked _exactly _like the people painted in the corridor portraits does not help either.

In slow steps, followed by a pair of ladies-in-waiting, Felt slowly reached Reinhardt and stood before him, oblivious to the gobsmacked Emurdol behind him. With a nod and a beautiful smile on his face, the Knight's tone was of the highest respects, "Lady Felt, we are grateful for you gracing us with your presence."

"Reinhardt." Her voice was as clear as a bell, potentially rivalling Emilia's own.

"Yes?"

She raised the hem of her dress, her slim leg raising up and—

"You jerk! Dragging me all the way here with no explanation, just what the hell is going on!?"

—arched directly to the Knight's face, which was stopped and caught by a single hand.

The shock rolled across the room like a wave. The Knights were quite reserved in their reaction but a large crowd of the nobles weren't quite able to do the same.

"I am quite surprised. What brought this on so suddenly?"

Still stood on one leg, Felt violently slapped her extravagant and _very _expensive dress in her anger. The ladies-in-waiting were unable to bear the sight of her doing it and wilted to the floor, eyes rolling. "Don't block me and then play dumb! It's this place! The clothes! Them! _You_! The hell is going on here!? I can't take any more of this!"

"Do you dislike the dress? I believe it becomes you very wonderfully."

"It's not the dress, and it's not like I'm embarrassed about it! I'm saying I hate it! And not just the dress! That includes _you _too! Don't you think abducting and holding a girl against her will is not very knightly!?"

Reinhardt replied to that question without missing a beat, "If it is for the prosperity of the Kingdom, it must be done."

Emurdol huffed at his declaration while Felt only put a hand to her forehead, keeled over by everything.

He was _very _glad that Felt did not change a bit. If she actually had changed from a brash-mouthed thief on the streets to a prim and dainty princess after a single month under Reinhardt's custody, he will end up having a _very _good reason to **fear **the Knight.

He's going to wonder how Rom would react once he tells him this, his precious charge adorned with all the riches she yearned for.

"It's her….so…so that's why Reinhardt was so surprised…" Emilia's surprise could not be ignored. And the Necromagus couldn't believe the thought of it. The same person who stole her insignia happened to be her _rival_.

_This better be a coincidence_. He gritted his teeth at the thought of it otherwise.

Felt scanned the chambers, sizing up the environment and the people occupying it, especially the Knights at the front row—and quickly noticed Emurdol's presence, being taller than a large majority of the crowd and being the darkest in attire, her features brightening. "Hey! How'd you end up all the way here, Old Man?"

_And she never bothered to remember my name. _Instead of being annoyed like last time, he was quite refreshed by it.

Shoving Reinhardt aside by the chest, he walked over to him nonchalantly, unaware of the ongoing Ceremony that was waiting on her. "Hi! It's been a while, right? Looks like you've been doing fine since we've last met!"

His armored hand immediately shot forward to grab the foot that was about to meet his abdomen by the ankle. His other hand poked out of his cloak to wiggle a metal claw at her chidingly before letting go.

"Heh. Looks like you're doing alright with that cut on your gut. But looks like you got new ones on you, especially your neck. You doing okay?"

**"It is nice to see you again, Little One." **

"Whoa!" She jumped at the eldritch voice in her head, her hands adorned by elbow-length gloves reaching up towards it, "What was that? Was that you?"

Her rowdy personality is actually relieving the worried tension of his body, and he appreciated it. A good breath of fresh air in this environment. Away from all the formalities and high-strung mood of it all. **"I appreciate your composure."**

"Well, can you tone it down a bunch? It sounds like it's coming out of my nightmares."

A dignified voice called out from the front, "Lady Felt. If you are finished greeting your old friend, could you please come this way?"

Scowling, Felt left Emurdol's space and joined the line of candidates as Marcus directed. "Alright, what do you want me to do here?"

Reinhardt stepped up to her, "I would say 'act more like a lady' but first, I would like you to hold this." Giving an insignia on her gloved hand, the gem on it began glowing a bright white light.

Emurdol wryly smiled. _So she _is_ a candidate too_.

"I thought about it when I stole one of these but why do they glow?"

_Oh dear_.

Marcus echoed the suspicious word, "Stole?"

Reinhardt, however, quickly followed up, "As you can see, the Dragon Jewel acknowledges Lady Felt as a Priestess. Now that her participation has been confirmed, I believe that this Royal Selection can legitimately begin."

Marcus put a hand to his chest and knelt down on one knee. Reinhardt followed suit, polished in execution. Deciding to play along, Emurdol and Viandegroc clapped the rhythm of reverence and bowed their hands with a hand to their chest when the entire squadron of Knights subsequently performed their courtesies in perfect unison.

For a moment, silence passed by as they relished the thought of finally beginning the Ceremony, then it was broken.

"Pardon me, if I may?" A noble stepped forward, raising his hand. "I have no words sufficient to thank the Knights of the Kingdom and the Royal Knights in particular, for everything related to this royal selection ceremony. Without their assistance, it surely would not have been possible to arrange this in such a short time."

"You are too kind." Marcus replied to him on the behalf of every knight in the Kingdom.

"However, and it brings me no joy to say this, but even though we are following the Dragon Tablet, are there not various…._issues_ with those selected?"

Emurdol wasn't sure which one he's talking about, either Felt or Emilia.

"May I request clarification on that?"

"I am wondering if we have been too focused on those qualified to be Dragon Priestesses and not enough on those qualified to wear the very crown of the Kingdom without becoming an object of ridicule?"

Emurdol could hear the tinge of anger behind his voice. There was also others who hollered their agreement with the man's words.

The man continued, "The Covenant with the Dragon is the gravest matter. Lugnica has come this far as the Dragon Kingdom and cannot survive as a nation without the Covenant."

_Dependent fuck. _Emurdol's opinion on him and possibly anyone else who thinks exactly according to his words devolved to only that one thing.

"But valuing the Covenant so much more than the people will sow the seeds of future discord."

Marcus blinked, maintaining his stoic mien of stone, "In other words, the Dragon Priestesses we knights have spilled our blood to search for would not make Kings worthy of our fealty?"

Emurdol felt the anger in the air emanating from the Royal Knights. Finding five specific people in a population of more than hundreds of thousands of people is not something anyone can boast about, and it certainly did not come without a cost. The noble is basically blotting out their efforts.

"Th-that is not how I would put it, but essentially, yes."

Emurdol took pleasure in the quivering of his words.

"Well, sure sounded like he's talkin' trash about the knights." Al pointed out cheerfully, "Don't really care since I'm not one but how 'bout you two? Do you care?"

The two he addressed, the Healer and Julius turned to face the chap. "Your dear Feli doesn't really mind, _meow_. I mean, whatever Beardy says, Feli's fealty is already to one person, you see."

Julius followed up, "I will not go quite as far as Felis, but I share the same sincerity. I have already pledged my blade. One day, they will offer their fealty to another. I do not intend to be so narrow-minded that my heart would be disturbed prior to that day."

Al added his own to the mix, "Yeah, nice one. It's the same with me where Princess is concerned, of course."

Felis is pledged to Crusch. Al is pledged to Priscilla. Julius could be pledged to Anastasia. The three and their raw devotion left Emurdol out. Though he isn't too bothered by it, the question still remained.

Does he share the same amount of fealty and devotion to Emilia? Would he do anything to make her goals come true?

He has no answer to that. Just days ago, all he ever cared about was sharing a life in the Mansion with Meili. Emilia was just a part of that life, sharing the happiness as well as being the cause of it. Now it's all changing in this very moment, and his role is affected by it as well. Should he appeal to it or not?

The unrest continued amongst the nobles and government officials.

"One must be both priestess and king. Perhaps they are not sufficiently aware enough that they are about to bear the crown?"

"No matter how dressed up they are, their demeanor exposes their true natures."

"They aren't refined enough. Their education is lacking. How can they be monarchs like this?"

A particular voice spoke louder than the rest, "Surely, it is not a _proooblem_. I personally think such a bounty of _personaaaality_ will make for a highly _amuuuusing_ Royal Selection."

"You be quiet!"

The noise and displeasure is slowly rising. Turning to face Emilia, he could see her trying to endure all this pressure from the nobles, as if she was personally attacked by their words. It brought a sour taste in his mouth, but he wasn't sure if it was because of her lacking mental fortitude or because of the nobles themselves. It brought further question to his motivations of _why _he must support her or if he _should _at all.

"Silence." The head of the Council of Elders quieted them. With everyone shutting their mouth, he regarded Felt. After keeping his silence for a time, the Wise Man hummed, "Hmmm. That was _somewhat_ irreverent behavior, so I do understand Ser Rickert's view. In that light, I believe everyone deserves a brief summation of the candidate's personal history."

Another Wise Man, one that was bald and stern seconded the suggestion, "Indeed. We can decide whether she is suitable or not from that."

With the other Wise Men nodding in assent, the head addressed Reinhardt, "Ser Reinhardt, we would first hear the highlights of what you know."

Being called, Reinhardt bent down to one knee and complied. Emurdol could only imagine more oil being thrown to the fire once he starts speaking, "Until approximately one month ago, Lady Felt was living in a corner of the Lower Quarter of the Royal Capital—also known as the Slums. An occasion arose where she had an opportunity to touch a Dragon Jewel. Having judged that she was qualified to be Dragon Priestess, I brought her with me as a matter of course."

No mention of the assassination attempt, no mention of the theft, and no mention of other gruesome details that happened. But Emurdol doubted that to be any satisfying.

And just as Emurdol expected, it was oil to the fire.

"A _waif_ from the slums….! Ser Reinhardt, are you _insane_!?" The same noble's face became red, exploding in his words, "You bring a vagrant from the streets to a ceremony to select the monarch who must shoulder the future of Lugnica!? Just what do you think the Royal Throne is!?"

The Knight had no reply, maintaining his dignity and showing not even a lick of being affected by his words. He was a fortress wall against them.

Rickert addressed the head of the Council, "Someone who is suitable for the crown _should_ be selected. We cannot simply lay our hands on whoever happens to walk by—"

"Mr. Rickert, aren't you _toooo_ slightly heated over this matter?"

"Preposterous, Roswaal. I strongly do not approve of your conduct. Not just I but all of the officials. Until now we have overlooked this because we are in a time of crises, but I shall still my tongue no longer. Not about the House of Astrea hauling a waif into these halls, nor _you_, the fool nominating a half-demon to be monarch….!"

**"GRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!‼!"**

"_Mr. Rickert_. I would suggest you amend your comments."

Roswaal's icy words silenced the noble, making him pale and terrified. The diabolical growl that emanated inside his head only occurred for half-a-second, but the intensity behind it was enough for him to realize that he _must _watch his mouth. Emurdol's bright green glare burned a massive hole in the bastard's skull, and Viandegroc's neck twisted to face the same direction, his kitty mask belying the _hunger _growing inside his body.

"It is poor manners to address a half-elf as a 'half-demon'. Furthermore, Lady Emilia remains a _royal_ _candidate_." Roswaal was pointing out the crime of insulting an _heir to the throne_. Given the opportunity, Emurdol would punish him for his insolence. "Do you understand _which_ of us should remember his place?"

The man was silent, cowed by the Lord's words and the power behind it. He surely noticed the glare the cloaked men among the Knights were sending him, giving him further incentive to shut up.

"Ser Reinhardt." The head turned his attention to the kneeling Knight, "Could this girl….?"

"I cannot be absolutely certain, for the means to prove with absolute certainty no longer exists. However, I must resist the urge to call this coincidence happenstance."

"What would you call it then?"

"Fate."

As if the word actually _had _any sort of special meaning, the head contemplated it carefully as he closed his eyes.

The Necromagus inwardly scoffed but he had his eyebrow raised in question, and likely did the others around him, not knowing what context the two were talking about.

The head turned to the other Wise Men and the nobles, "Have you not noticed? Take another good look at Lady Felt. If you cannot tell, even by that, I must question your fidelity to your own Kingdom."

The nobles scrutinized Felt intensely with bated breath. Overwhelmed by their stares, Felt scowled without restraint.

Emurdol waited, for a few seconds.

Then it came, "Blond hair….and crimson eyes…..!?"

As Rickert specified her details, the other nobles and officials were struck with the same shock and surprise like a wave. Emurdol had a slight inkling as to why.

As he could easily remember, the portraits in the corridors were full of _blond-haired _and _red-eyed_ persons.

"Blond hair and crimson eyes…..those are peculiar to the bloodline of the Lugnica Royal Family!"

_I fucking knew it._

"It….it cannot be! The entire Royal Bloodline passed away in that incident half a year ago! How could this girl possibly be related to them!?"

"_Mr. Rickert._" For the first time, Reinhardt's voice had force behind it, enough to make the noble flinch from it, "Are you aware of a certain incident in the Castle some 14 years ago?"

The noble flinched once again from the implications given, "Ser Reinhardt….you can't be saying…."

"14 years ago, thieves infiltrated the Castle and abducted the daughter of the late second prince, Lord Fold. The thieves managed to escape, and the daughter was never found."

Emurdol eyed Felt once again; she truly seemed to be as young as 14 or 15 turns just by her appearance. Could Reinhardt possibly mean to that, that Felt is actually that abducted daughter during her infancy, spared from the plague that annihilated the Royal Family?

"As the matter was not written upon the Dragon Tablet, the thieves had easy access to the Royal Castle at the time. Since there were a number of other urgent matters, an all-out search for the daughter was unable to be conducted."

The head nodded, "Hmmm. That incident was the trigger for the dissolution and reconstitution of the Royal Knights. Your kinsmen were not uninvolved in this matter, I believe?"

"Thus, I have information that would be otherwise be unknown to me. And based upon this…."

"That is _irrational_!" Despite the evidence and possibilities, Rickert was zealous, and Emurdol did not like the sight of it. It reminded him of the Holy Knights who had tongues of fire in their twisted self-righteousness, "Are we to believe a daughter of the Royal Household vanished without a trace 14 years ago, came to live in the slums, and now you incidentally discovered her with the Royal Selection nearing!? And furthermore, you just so happened to find out that she is qualified as a Dragon Priestess!?" He laughed, "Absurd! This is all too contrived! You could easily have found a girl with Priestess qualifications and dyed her hair and used magic to alter the color of her eyes. Surely you have not engaged in such shameful behavior?"

"I swear it upon my sword." To show his sincerity, Reinhardt even laid his sheathed giant blade to the floor. A courtesy of the highest respect a knight could ever do.

Emurdol turned to face Rickert again, wondering just how in denial is this bastard. To his surprise, the noble was actually affected by Reinhardt's gesture, deflating and slouched heavily.

"With all of the Royal Family already lost, no means exist to confirm whether she has Royal Blood or not. I do not think anyone will bow their heads based on mere supposition about her identity."

"That is natural. However, I am certain that Lady Felt is worthy of the Seat of Power, _even _without a claim by blood."

The head eyed the Knight's conduct passively, "It would seem the Sword Saint of our generation is quite invested in her."

Rickert sighed, resigned to the determination the Knight had and turned his attention to Felt, "Setting aside your Priestess qualifications, you hail from the slums. And it is possible you possess the Royal Bloodline, presumed lost. I cannot even begin to fathom the distress this must bring you. Are you determined to see this through?"

"Huh?" However, Felt did not realize that he was testing her nor did she seem to go along with the discussion about it. "What are you talking about, old guy? I never said one thing about being King."

Emurdol gulped, tightening his grip on his crossed arms behind his back.

"I got dragged here out from the slums against my will! I told him to take me back and he wouldn't, and he hid my old clothes so I had to wear this stupid thing! I am beyond _pissed_! A million times pissed! I _can't_ accept any of this! I will not!"

Everyone was struck silent, not even Rickert could make another word.

However, only one person would dare break the silence, and Emurdol's scowl finally formed on his creases, "How long shall thou entertain this tedious and pointless discussion?" Drawing attention to herself, bouncing her full bosom above her folded arms, she continued, "Even if in name only, five has't been assembl'd so the process can commence. All we needeth do is beginneth, and the unw'rthy shall be culled in due course. Aft'r all, I shalt be the last one standing. Wheth'r the excess baggage did qualify or not is completely beside the point."

Emurdol wasn't the only one affected by her imperiousness once again. Felt leapt down from the dais and glared at Priscilla. "I was thinking you were a good-looking chick, but I guess it's just a flower bed inside your head too, huh? If you wanna fight, you're on. Everyone knows that you're gonna get more than you bargained for with me."

"Such _arrogance_. Do you know who I am?"

If allowed, Emurdol would run over there and send a devastating slap to her smug face. See if she's still feeling high and mighty with a disfigurement.

The darkness in Priscillia's eyes beginning to become apparent, Al quickly shouted, Uh, Princess, that's not gonna help—!"

In a literal eye-blink, Reinhardt who have knelt before the dais had suddenly appeared in between the heated candidates, suffering the brunt of a strong gust of wind that cut across the chambers without the slightest flinch. "I beg your pardon, Lady Priscilla.

Emilia held the younger candidate close to her protectively, and righteous anger flared in the half-elf's amethyst eyes. "What are you thinking of doing in a hallowed place like this!?"

Priscilla simply waved her off, "I am merely teaching an untrained bitch her place. After all, impoliteness towards me can only be repaid with one's life."

Emurdol sighed. _Is there no end to her?_

"Won't you say you're sorry? Or do you simply not realize that you have done something wrong?"

Priscilla's face suddenly went blank before she turned to face Emilia, almost about to laugh, "One shouldst apologizeth f'r doing something wrong, saith thou? In that case, why not apologizeth for being born, silver-haired half-elf?"

Emilia's body instantly recoiled, the strength in her eyes replaced by pain. "I…I have no relationship...to the Witch….."

"Doest such an excuse mean aught to anyone? Thou art the spitting image of the taboo of the world. The v'ry sight of thee fills people with fear and maketh their hearts trembleth. Is that not why thee cov'r yourself and obscure thyself?"

Emilia's head only bowed even more, the crown of flowers managing to not slip off, overwhelmed by the assault.

Priscilla isn't wrong, she could not be. And Emurdol couldn't bear with the fact, but the bitch fails to realize that it was also done to protect herself and others. It is in _no way _her fault.

"Princess, can we leave it at that?" Al pleaded in his usual tone, "Adding more enemies here is seriously gonna put us in a bind, especially when one of em's the Sword Saint of all people. How 'bout you just apologize?"

"Mine own vassal shouldst not maketh such a pathetic display. And what of the Sword Saint? M'rely the supposed mightiest in the land. Handle it."

Exasperation shot across Emurdol's mind, wondering just how _does _she see the obvious facts.

"I wouldn't last a _second_…."

Just like that, his defeatist demeanor sent exasperation across Priscilla's face in turn, and then all the malice she exhumed seemed to disappear. However, no apology came nor the willingness to.

Aside from Emurdol and Viandegroc, everyone else could not conceal their shock at how the bandit-looking man could easily pacify someone as volatile as her.

After everyone has calmed down, with Felt shrugging off Emilia's assistance, disheartening the latter, and Reinhardt returning to the line, the head announced, "Then, let us proceed with our agenda. The dispute over the Royal Succession. The Council of Elders hereby proposes a meeting between all the candidates for the Royal Selection." Looking over the other Wise Men and earning their assent one by one, he continued, "I thank you for your approval. Let us begin the debate. Though the subject under discussion is who shall be King, the issue is the method of selection. It has not been decided yet. To determine this, I thought it best to first ask how the candidates are willing to go."

The Council nodding all at once, the head turned to Marcus and sent a signaling look. The Knight Captain stepped forward once again, bowing deeply on the behalf of everyone, "Then, if I may be so bold, I shall continue. I believe each candidate has a case to make. I would like all in the chamber to hear them. First, let us please begin with Lady Crusch. Ser Felix Argyle!"

Crush, the beautiful green haired woman donned in a military uniform, nodded her head and stepped forward to the dais. Felis raised a hand casually and jogged up to the candidate's side. "Yes, Ser!"

Emurdol tilted his head in question. _'Ser' Felix Argyle?_

Nudging Reinhardt by his side, he openly asked him with the eldritch voice, **"Why is Felix referred to as a 'Ser'?"**

"Ah, so you haven't heard yet? Despite his looks, Felis is very much a male."

Emurdol's response was to be wide-eyed for a few seconds, then steadily get even more pissed off about what _he _did during their first meetings. No _man _has any right to touch him like that in any way, much less a woman he doesn't know. A gender-confused demihuman? What else could be worse?

"Oh, and despite his personality, Felis identifies himself as a male."

_Oy. _

Pandemonium has _nothing _on what this world could throw at his face. Killing things and ugly faces are far more common there than here.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Crusch Karsten, the favorite of the public, a supporter of the Royal Family since its earliest history and proven loyalty from time to time with her many deeds in the past. Such was what Emurdol gathered from Reinhardt, and he was keen on what a supporter of the Royal Family has to say if one is to take the throne.

With a clear and dignified voice, she began.

"I strive to be fully aware of what everyone expects by having me take the throne. The House of Karsten is a house that has carried great authority and political influence for many years. Should I succeed as monarch, politics and national policy are guaranteed to continue without so much as a ripple, correct?"

Many people gave their nods in response.

"I regret to dash your expectations but I can guarantee no such thing."

Silence. A stiff and disbelieving silence. Emurdol could feel the chill in the air, and it got worse when one of the nobles suddenly questioned it in a shout alongside many others.

Crusch remained unmoved and continued on, gazing upon the mural etched on the wall behind the Throne, "The Dragonfriend Kingdom of Lugnica. This nation has remained prosperous by honoring the Covenant made with the Dragon long ago. Thanks to the Dragon, various crises have been averted, from war to plague and famine. The word 'Dragon' has never vanished from the Kingdom at any point through its long history."

She crossed her arms and turned her eyes to the crowd before the officials and knights.

"For the most part, prosperity brought by reaching the Covenant with the Dragon has been a good thing. If war arises, the Dragon breathes fire and burns our enemies away. If there is plague, it employs its mana to heal the people. If there is famine, it soaks the soil with Dragon's Blood and grants the blessing of bounty. And so, the guidance of the Dragon has saved us from hardship and guaranteed our glory…."

The more she portrayed about the Dragon's saving help, the more Emurdol kept thinking about the same thing over and over regarding the people of the Kingdom: _Dependent Fucks._

"….Do you not think it is shameful?"

The silence became even tenser the sooner she asked. And Emurdol could see the fires of anger coming from Crusch underneath her noble and professional demeanor.

"The Covenant guarantees we will be protected from any crisis and any hardship so long as we uphold it. And so, we have descended into softness and depravity, relying now upon a change of leadership for its _continuation_. To _think_ that you take this for granted."

Her voice had a noticeable bite in it from the last sentence, and one of the Wise Men stood up and exploded at her, his voice quivering in rage, "You go too far, Lady Crusch! I will not suffer anyone making light of the Covenant! Do you have any conception of the sacrifices the Kingdom has been spared from since the Covenant with the Dragon long ago? Are you denying the weight of history itself!?"

"I have already stated that this past prosperity is mostly a good thing. Even I have benefited of its blessing. The House of Karsten was born with the Kingdom and shared in its glory. Had a crisis destroyed the Kingdom, my house would have shared its fate. If the Dragon saves the Nation, it has saved my house as well."

Emurdol was now hanging on to her every word, wanting her to make the point of her statement clear.

"However, the future is a different matter. Do you think nothing of the pathetic sight you make at this moment? Have you _not_ ceased to use your minds because you cling to the Dragon and the Covenant? When there is war, plague and famine, is there nothing we can do but sing the Dragon's praises?"

_She sees it too._

"That is—"

"This nation has relied upon the writings of the Dragon Tablet for too long, becoming so soft and weak that it cannot stand on its own power. The nation takes for granted that the Dragon and prophecy will aid it whenever it is shaken. But can you argue that we have strived to avoid such matters from occurring to being with? A number of calamities in recent years, including the failure of the Great Subjugation 14 years ago, are things we courted through that weakness."

_This Kingdom stagnated_.

Bathed in the eyes of disbelief and anger, Crusch never faltered the tiniest bit, raising a fist and nobly declared, "If the Kingdom is to crumble without the Dragon's protection, then crumble it _should_. A Nation _too _blessed stagnates. Stagnation courts corruption. And that corruption will bring about its destruction. That's what I think."

_Preach. Preach. Preach the philosophy the Order of the Serpent adheres to._

"Are….are you saying that you will destroy the Nation!?"

"No. If we cannot stand up to our own feet without the Dragon, then _we_ must become the Dragon ourselves. Everything that the Kingdom has relied upon the Dragon until now should be borne by King, Minister, and People. Furthermore…."

_Speak. Speak and tell them what it means to be a _Human_._

"…when I become King, I will make us forget about the Covenant with the Dragon until now. Come what may. The Dragonfriend Kingdom of Lugunica belongs not to the Dragon, but to _us._"

For the first time, Emurdol has found someone he can _truly _respect for all of their strength of will and personality. Not even Emilia can match up to her.

"Hard times await us. Perhaps there will be disasters we averted in the past due to the Dragon's power, or perhaps even greater calamities. But I do not wish to live in a manner that shames my very Soul. I greatly wish for all to do the same." Her voice dropped, shaking her head and lowering her gaze, "I have long harbored doubts about the state of the Kingdom. I believe that this course of events is a Heaven-sent opportunity to make things right."

Emurdol looked around the nobles, and to his great satisfaction despite not being affiliated to her, _no one _had the balls to say anything against her argument. All boiling down to the fact that _no one _can deny everything she said.

The head hummed again, "Hmmm. We understand Lady Crusch's point of view. Now then, Ser Felix Argyle, is there anything you wish to add?"

"Thank you for asking, but I have nothing further to add. Lady Crusch's thoughts are exactly as she says. And history will prove that Lady Crusch's actions are correct. I have no doubt whatsoever that it is my Master who shall become King."

In all honesty, Emurdol was very willing to see how she would hold up to her words as a candidate for the Seat of Power.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Then, let us continue, following with the next in line beside Lady Crusch."

The woman's arrogant mien shined more than ever, stepping forward with all confidence. "It is Hyper Priscilla Time."

Emurdol was taken aback by such a foreign phrase that only the lower class in Pandemonium would indulge in.

Al walked over and stood by her side on the dais, giving her a thumbs up, "Yeah. Nice use, Princess. Nailed that one really good."

Marcus bowed with a hand to his chest, "Very well, Lady Priscilla Barielle, if you please…"

"Though it pains me, I shalt humor thee. I needeth only demonstrateth mine own majesty to the fusty fossils and establisheth that they needeth only to obeyeth me, aye? A simple matt'r."

Not just Emurdol, but every other noble in the chambers seethed in resentment against her. If such emotions could be measured by the glow of one's eye, then _any _Necromagi present in the room will blind everyone.

"The Bloody Bride. What gall." Crusch commented with an audible bite.

With a fan that was drawn out of her cleavage and spread out to cover her mouth, she began with a thoroughly wearied voice, "Such boring insignificant jeers. I am so accustom'd to such that it doth not even serve as a lullaby."

The head interrupted inquisitively, "This has been on my mind since well before. Barielle….as in Ser Lyp Barielle? Hmmm, now that I think of it, where has Ser Lyp been?"

"That lecherous old man suddenly wenteth senile half a year ago. That man did remain unable to diff'rentiate dream and reality, and hath passed hence but a few days aft'r."

The head was intrigued over the news, "Hmmm, Lady Priscilla. What does that make your relationship to Ser Lyp?"

"I supposeth it maketh me his widow. That man hadst not did touch me with so much of a fingertip, so our relationship is in name alone, quite literally."

Al spoke up, "Uh, Princess, ain't that a little harsh?"

She ignored her vassal without a thought, "A meaningless death to endeth a w'rthless life. If that fossil's life hadst any significance whatsoev'r, 'tis that I inherited his entire estate. Accordingly, the House of Barielle is mineth."

Emurdol suspected foul play, and likely a few others thought the same. However, no one tried anything to object. Not even Rickert.

The head replied to her, "Hmmm, I understand. I regret to hear of Ser Lyp's passing, as he has been an acquaintance for many years, but it is clear that your claim is on firm ground, Lady Priscilla."

"Obviously." Without respect but with pure arrogance, she replied to him with a nod. Not even Emurdol would go that far, especially when the Wise Man has been nothing but courteous and polite the whole time.

Unaffected, the head turned to Al, "Then I would like to press for further details, does the Knight beside you have anything to add?"

While he was speaking, Al was yawning inside his helmet. If the decorum of idiots is anything to go by, such an action in a place and occasion like this would be considered rude. "Aaahhaaa, me?"

The antagonistic gazes were aimed straight to him.

"Yes, you. Your attire is highly unusual. I have not seen you among the Royal Knights ….and your helm?"

"Oh, you can tell?" He tapped his helm with his fingernail, "Yeah, it's from Vollachia down south. Was a lotta trouble gettin' outta there. Tough too so it took me quite a while. Plus, it looks cool so it's a keeper."

"Vollachia Empire?" Emurdol suspected the name to be a foreign Nation, and likely one that this Kingdom didn't have any good relations with, given by the head's averse reaction as well as a few others among the Nobles, "Then, you are not assigned to the Royal Knights."

"Nope. Not at all. Also, I've cut all my ties to Vollachia. Now I'm just a wanderer, goin' with the flow. Oh, and uh, could ya call me Al? Also, you look a little upset that I'm not showin' my face here….well, can you give me a break on that?"

No sense of formality in anyway, along with a few statements that would come off as rude to the eyes of a typical noble, the glares on him grew even sharper. Al slipped his hand under the chin of his helmet and lifted it up, revealing all of his many scars, made from blades, burns, and likely many more.

Someone from the crowd yelped at the sight of it.

"See? It's a really sorry sight. So I'd like you to understand why I'm wearing it in front of everybody."

The Knight Captain spoke up, "This may be an even greater discourtesy. If you hail from Vollachia with such wounds, were you a Sword Slave by any chance?"

Emurdol wondered about the meaning behind the term. _Gladiator, perhaps?_

"Yeah, that's the one." Al snapped his fingers and pointed a pistol finger at him, "That's the Cap'n for ya. The Empire likes to keep its secrets but you'll get a thing or two about the shady parts of it. Yessir, I was a Sword Slave, spent like 10 years as one so I'm like a veteran now. Messed up when I was young, though. Lost an arm in the process."

Murmurs occurred on the nobles and from the knights as well. If anything, Emurdol was impressed at Al's feat. If Sword Slave actually translates to Gladiator, surviving 10 years in such a profession deserves recognition. He might be a greater warrior than he came out as back in that carriage. He is also a human from the Old World too.

Coming to this plane of existence truly did _not _end well for Al. He was not as skilled or battle-hardened as the Necromagus and had to struggle in order to survive it. Consequently, Emurdol lost a _hand _on the first day in this world.

Emurdol smirked. Apparently, they are much more alike than he thought.

The head spoke again, "Hmmm. Hailing from the Empire of Vollachia…is that why you came to stand at Lady Priscilla's side?"

The latter replied to him, "Not at all. 'Tis the result of a dram game of mine. From the beginning, mine own becoming king was as sure as divine providence. The result shall be the same regardless of mine own vassal. And so, I am free to selecteth the vassal I deem fit to serveth me. I hath caught sight of him in a bodybuilding contest I did hold on mine own estate, with the winner to be off'r'd the privilege of being mine own vassal. T'was an amusing sight."

"I see. So he was a winner of that contest, I ta—"

"Naaaah." Al interrupted him, holding up a hand. "I didn't win it. I was a one-armed guy against a buncha bulky bodybuilders. I mean, I was _lucky _to make it to the top 5."

"Oh? Then how did you come to be Lady Priscilla's vassal?"

Priscilla slapped Al's back, making him yelp out loud as she answered in his place, "I has't already toldeth thee. I picketh whoev'r I please. To begin with, mine own keen eyes did allow me to disc'rn that he is a physical wond'r, far more than a collection of dim-witted louts ov'rconfident in their muscle-bound arms. And more than that, only he boast an escapeth from Vollachia and a birth beyond the Great Waterfall."

Emurdol was surprised that this woman would expose something like that so nonchalantly. Al didn't seem bothered by it too.

"And so, I did select Al to be mine own vassal. 'Tis providence that mine own selection of Al, and mine own path to becometh king, shalt both shineth in acc'rdance with mine own glory."

That tone of hers was familiar, just like it had yesterday. She _completely _believes _everything _she's saying. If she could outmatch Greed in terms of Arrogance, she now _can_.

"You're saying that…Heaven chose you…?" Even the head took time to comprehend her.

"But _of course_. Aft'r all, nothing happeneth in this world that doest not benefit me. Furth'rm're, 'tis I who is worthy of becoming King and none oth'r. Thee needeth only boweth bef're me and s'rve."

Her audacity was so overwhelming that everyone gaped at it.

Only Al was the one who is completely unaffected, "Princess, Tell 'em your basis on that."

"Very well. 'Tis very simple. S'rving me means siding with the winn'r. Thee may has't aught thee desire; I'll alloweth. But I shalt not permit thee to s'rve anyone else. That is all"

With a brush of her hair back, she turned her back on the Council and walked back to her spot on the line of candidates, leaving everyone still dumbstruck. Al added, "I know how it sounds bad but she's not lying. If she wants something, she'll get it. Cuz Heaven itself actually chose Lady Priscilla. Surely you heard of what gramps—sorry, Ser Lyp's lands has bounced back lately."

The Knight Captain, who was addressed, answered, "We have confirmed this for ourselves. Following the passing of Lord Lyp Barielle, Lady Priscilla took control of policy within his lands, which resulted in the region's unprecedented prosperity."

"That's right. But don't take it like we're workin' hard for everyone else's sake, alright? Princess's guesses are _always _correct. She's just right about everything; no ifs, no ands, no buts either." He held up a finger, "If you're under Princess, you can do whatever you want. If you're gonna bet on the winning horse, gotta do it sooner than later."

And then he went back to the line of Knights, right next to Emurdol. The latter's impression of him has changed completely.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

With the tension in the air now relaxed thanks to Priscilla no longer taking the stage, the Knight Captain announced, "Next is Lady Anastasia and her Knight, Ser Julius Euclius. Step forward!"

The tiny girl of a candidate elegantly stepped forward, followed by the purple-haired knight.

Emurdol couldn't help but feel unsettled that there are _two _entities residing in the equally purple-haired woman, as if there were two living beings inside her one body. But it's unlikely anyone else besides him noticed it.

With a warm smile, Anastasia began, "If ya'll expect me to be so intense like the rest, I'm in a bit of a bind. I doubt you'd want me to come on strong, so my kinda gimmick is that I got none."

Emurdol was a bit off-put by her intonation and diction because of that accent she has. Nonetheless, her warm demeanor calmed the atmosphere of the chambers.

"Now then, I, Anastasia Hoshin, will speak for a spell. I hope ya'll forgive my indiscretions and all, since I'm an outsider."

Julius stroked the front of his hair, almost unnecessarily, as if he was drawing attention to himself. Emurdol's opinion of him is dropping even lower. "I am Lady Anastasia's Knight, Julius, Euclius. Please be gentle with her."

The head spoke, "With that accent, I assume you are a native of Kararagi, then?"

"That's right. Born a baby girl in the lowest class of good ol' Kararagi in the League of Free Trading Cities."

_Low class? She's born a commoner? _Emurdol wondered idly about that.

The head's eyes narrowed slightly, "Hmmm, the Lowest Class. Then, what is your connection to Lugnica?"

"I was born in the lowest of the low, but now I got a real mansion in the city. I have stores in other cities…that's how I imposed on Lugnica."

Julius added, "She serves as chairwoman of the Hoshin Company, the most influential company in Kararagi. For many years, this position in her nation was occupied by the Lushika Industrial Company, but thanks to Lady Anastasia's commercial genius, it was reconstituted under a new name, which, of course, is Hoshin Company."

Emurdol soundlessly hummed in interest. _So a lowly commoner that rose to riches. _

Julius continued as Anastasia blushed a little, "Accompanying its vast expansion across Kararagi, there was talk of expansion into Lugnica as well. That was the impetus for my meeting Lady Anastasia for the very first time."

The head replied, "Hmmm. So in spite of humble beginnings, she established herself as a brilliant young merchant. I must say, this certainly reminds me of the founder of Kararagi itself."

Emurdol guessed that the founder was born the same way, from nothing to everything. A show of the wonderful power Humans are capable of.

Anastasia clapped her hands happily at the head's mention, "That's right! I always looked up to that man, Hoshin of the Wastes. When it was time to establish my surname as a li'l merchant, I decided to adopt the name of Hoshin in his honor."

The head nodded in praise, "Hoshin is the name of a great man known across the entire continent, revered from ancient times to the present. To name yourself after him….such a splendid display."

Julius remarked, "Lady Anastasia's commercial genius is a divine gift. It is no exaggeration that she rivals Hoshin himself. My own lack of ability in this area leaves me envious of her."

The head drew another nod, "My, my. She must be quite something indeed for the Finest of Knights to boast of her so."

Emurdol nudged Reinhardt again, not needing to say anything regarding the inquiry in his mind.

Without a missing beat, the Knight replied, "Among the Royal Knights of the Kingdom of Lugnica, Julius is second only to Captain Marcus. There _is _a position of vice-captain but it's a vacant template. When it comes to sword skill, mana employment, pedigree, and exploits, Julius fulfills all the qualifications of a Knight and is second to none. He is undoubtedly worthy of the title of Finest of Knights."

Emurdol silently hummed again, finding interest in challenging the man someday just to see how he lives up to the title, **"It's different compared to _you_, who is a Knight among Knights?"**

"Yes, indeed. In terms of strength with the sword, I am far superior. I am yet to find anyone stronger than me."

Emurdol admired his tone that was factual instead of boasting, but he strangely found _envy _in the Knight's sky blue eyes, finding it far too foreign for someone like him to wear.

The head continued, "Lady Anastasia, as you are a native of Kararagi, what is your purpose in striving to be King?"

Someone from a different Nation racing for the Seat of Power from _another _Nation? It's bound to draw the question.

Anastasia only smiled wryly, "Ya'll have such high expectations, it's makin' me nervous. Sadly, I ain't grand like Miss Crusch or confident like Miss Priscilla here. However, there is one thing I can say that comes with my goal. You see, I'm actually a li'l greedier than others."

Emurdol's cheeks went taught at her declaration.

"Since I was teeny-tiny, I'm a lot greedier than by normal standards. As a li'l maid at the first li'l company I worked for, I made a couple suggestions to the owner and they became big hits. So, I got into the bigger and fatter deals. Soon, I was livin' so large I completely forgot how poor I once was. Thought I was goin' to feel relieved, but I only felt a lot poorer than before."

_That _is _Greed. _Emurdol rarely ever saw the raw form of the sin in Pandemonium among humans.

The head asked, "And why is that?"

"That was the scary part about it. The more you have, the more you want. 'I want that', 'I want this'. It ain't enough. It's never gonna be enough, and _that's _when I realized it." She grinned and pointed at the ground. The very Castle itself. "I'm greedy, so I want anythin' around. But I ain't satisfied yet. I don't know what real fulfillment reels like, so I want a country of my own."

Immediately, Emurdol's list of dislikes has found another newcomer besides Priscilla.

"You want this Kingdom….to satisfy your greed?"

The smile on Anastasia's face became robust as she responded to the head's inquiry, "That's right. If it's gonna smash my popularity, smash away! I'll have my fill and be totally satisfied like a li'l princess." She's open about it too. Another unusual quality he found coming from a human, "If gettin' my hands on the Kingdom isn't enough, I'll just use the country as a steppin' stone to get even more."

Emurdol wonders just _how _will she even win the Seat of Power in the first place with that sort of attitude.

"What would become of the Kingdom if you will not even deem it fit to fulfill your greed?"

"I told ya, didn't I? I'm super greedy. So once somethin's mine, it's always mine. If I get even more grabby, I'll use whatever I have to satisfy it. My life in Kararagi, the Hoshin Company, and all the people who work there, they're all part of my drive for fulfillment. I would _never _throw them away. So, how about ya'll stay calm and be mine?"

And she concluded with a very warm smile on her face.

The crowd was silent, taken by her speech. The head addressed Julius, "I see. Do you have anything you would like to add, Ser Julius?"

The Finest of Knights stepped up, indicating to his Lady with a hand, "Lady Anastasia referred to it as Greed but in a different point of view, especially in a business one, she is able to make any decision without emotional involvement, an indispensable quality in a statesman."

The head nodded in agreement to his words. At that, Emurdol allowed himself to open up and see just what point is he making.

"Furthermore, as I stated earlier, Lady Anastasia is a brilliant businesswoman, something this Kingdom desperately needs at this hour. Repeated clashes with neighboring Nations—especially, skirmishes with the Empire of Vollachia, have drained our coffers. With the famine from last year, the finances of the Kingdom are in a precarious position."

Many faces went red amongst the nobles and even a few of the Wise Men. Emurdol openly smirked at the reaction of the Kingdom's negatives being exposed.

The head said, "I believe such details ought to be not so lightly divulged in a public place, Ser Julius."

"The importance of financial reconstruction to the nation has been common knowledge for decades now. I do not see the reason to hide this from those assembled here. Do you not think that the very reason the affairs of the Nation have stagnated is because we have averted our eyes from this difficult financial state for so long?"

"So a _mere_ Knight speaks to us about political affairs beyond his purview…?"

Emurdol scoffed at the head's addressing of Julius' audacity. The Knight was making a fair point. In the Order of the Serpent, though only the wisest have the final say, even a newly ordained Priest or Priestess' word would be heeded and considered. Doing otherwise would limit the amount of solutions necessary to resolve concerns that arise.

Emurdol was a witness to more than a few establishments falling to the ground because of such practices of selective hearing.

_Typical idiots._

"That is correct. These affairs will affect the House of Euclius very little. Even if we avert our eyes, it will surely be nothing irreversible for my generation. However, even if my house remains unscathed, I cannot ignore the matter of the Throne I _serve_ with my body and soul falling into distress."

_Exactly_. Emurdol subtly nodded at that.

While the veins bulged from the foreheads of the Wise Men, Julius turned to Anastasia, "However, the Hoshin Company has connected us to the extreme prosperity joined in Kararagi, bringing a fresh wind to Lugnica. I have seen for myself that Lady Anastasia is worthy to be King if we continue along this path. What can you call this, if not _fate_?"

Julius was becoming invigorated, his voice rising in tenor and his words quickening.

"If Heavens chooses the King, then it has chosen Lady Anastasia. And I, devoted to the Royal Family, having pledged my loyalty to the Kingdom, hereby declare that Lady Anastasia is _worthy _of the Seat of Power. I thank you for lending me your ears."

He appeared to be more of a performer than knight during his speech, even captivated more than a few people from both knights and nobles.

The Knight Captain remained stoic as always, asking simply, "Will that be all, Ser Julius?"

Julius nodded to him, "Yes, thank you very much." He returned to Anastasia's side, "You were marvelous, Lady Anastasia. A place such as this is where you truly bloom as a flower sowed by Heaven."

"Aw, shucks! You spoil me so much!" Red-faced, Anastasia fanned herself awkwardly as she stepped down to the line of candidates with him, "You didn't need to say all of that, now I'm all embarrassed."

As Julius returned to the line and a short silence followed afterwards, the Knight Captain followed up to the next one. "Then, the next candidate, Lady Emilia."

"Yes."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

This time, Emurdol truly felt the pressure weigh down directly to his heart, as if he was the one being called on. Outwardly, his body betrayed none of this, but he was now truly holding his breath. Viandegroc, frozen like a rock ever since Crusch's speech, was starting to shift lightly, unnecessarily adjusting his kitty mask.

They watched as Emilia stepped up to the dais, her body language straining for the slightest second before stepping up to it.

Whispers arose amongst the nobles, and Emurdol cannot miss one consistent word being repeated from one official to another: _half-demon_.

"It's alright, Emurdol. Do not worry." Reinhardt soothed, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Emurdol turned a glowing green glare towards him, a result of what he kept hearing from the nobles.

"Foul words are overcome by seeing a person's true qualities before your eyes, especially if they are noble and pure of heart. Believe in Lady Emilia."

Emurdol already knew that, but it was still annoying to have it advised to him. He will _not _stand for anyone badmouthing an innocent girl, especially his friend.

With Roswaal now beside Emilia, having no Knight to speak of, the Knight Captain bowed his head with a weighty look, "Then, Lady Emilia and Lord Roswaal L. Mathers, if you please…"

Despite the formality of the occasion, Roswaal never changed, "Yes, _yeeees_. But _stiiiill_, following in the steps of all these mighty knights, I feel so _teeerribly_ out of place. Am I?"

He nudged the question to Emilia, probably to lighten her nerves, but he received no response from her, tense as she is.

Then, she took a deep breath and began, with a voice as clear as a bell.

"Members of the Council of Elders, it is my pleasure to meet you for the very first time. My name is Emilia. I have no family name. So please, simply refer to me as Emilia."

No quiver, no anxiety, no fear—only resolution, all the way to her amethyst eyes.

Emurdol felt all of his worries go away and inwardly applauded her just for that. He figured her to be unfamiliar in a grand audience like this, but she took to it very easily. There's hope.

Roswaal followed after, "And I am the humble man nominating Lady Emilia, Roswaal L. Mathers, bearing the rank of Margrave. We are grateful for the Council of Elders' valuable time."

_So even _he_ knows how to be formal. _Emurdol rarely ever heard him talk like this for the past few weeks, especially when he lacked the usual drawl.

The head stroked his long white beard, "Hmmm, so _she _is nominated, not by the Royal Guard, but by the Court Magician. I would very much like to hear the details of why this is so." Turning to Roswaal, he said, "Please provide us details about the candidate, Lady Emilia, including her lineage."

Emurdol gulped.

"Understood. Firstly, though I believe all present are well aware, I shall begin with the circumstances of Lady Emilia's _biiirth_. As you can see from her lovely silver hair, her skin so pale one can nearly see through her, violet eyes like the gems of amethyst that seem to capture the very soul, and her voice, like a silver bell, one echoing unforgettably in ones ears, even in their dreams. As you well know, these enchanting qualities are proof that elven blood flows through Lady Emilia's veins."

The bald and stocky-framed Wise Man interrupted, "And the other half of her blood is human. In other words, she is a half-elf?"

He said that like its venom, especially when a vein bulged in his forehead and the hatred in his eyes could not be hidden.

"How _dare you_. Have you no _shame_, bringing this silver-haired half-demon filth before the Royal Throne?"

The head turned to him, "Ser Bordeaux, your words go too far."

"Ser Miklotov, do you not understand!? A silver-haired half-demon with an appearance matching the Witch of Envy as handed down by the old tales! She once _consumed_ half the world! She leads all living things to despair, chaos, and annihilation! Do not claim ignorance!"

The head said nothing.

"How much do you think her appearance and lineage alone makes others tremble? You ask us to place _such_ a being on the Royal Throne? Inconceivable. Even the commoners of other Nations would call us a collection of madmen, to say nothing of the people of the Dragonfriend Kingdom of Lugnica! _The Nation where the Witch_ _sleeps_!"

And he ended it with a stomp, his arms spread wide during his tirade.

Amidst Bordeaux's rant, a pair of green lights lit up behind a curtain of white.

Under the chilling atmosphere, Roswaal asked, "Are you _dooone_, Master Bodeaux?"

"If you ask whether that is all I have to say, then I have not said nearly enough. Do you even comprehend what you have done, High Sorcerer of the Court?"

Roswaal was not going to be swayed by his attempt of cowing him to submission, "I understand _veeery _much. Master Bordeaux expresses that the reaction of the populace upon seeing Lady Emilia would be of _conceeern_, yes?"

He raised up a finger.

"_Hooooowever_, perhaps you have forgotten, Master Bodeaux? The issue of which you speak of has no _beeeaaaring_ upon the Royal Selection whatsoever."

In Felix's and Julius' line of sight, they watched the robed bald man that accompanied Emurdol reach up to his face with his left hand and remove his mask.

Alongside the other Knights, they watched as _bloody red hair _began growing out of the scalp.

"…..What do you mean?"

Roswaal lowered his voice as he faced the Wise Men, "If I may, it is _preciiisely_ as Lady Priscilla stated at the beginning. Even if as a mere formality, there are _fiiiiive_ candidates, so the Royal Selection may begin. And if it begins, one need merely see it through, _yeeees_?"

The head, Miklotov, began narrowing his eyes, "Hmmm, in other words, you are saying that what is important is that the Dragon Jewel chose Lady Emilia…..and that her actual suitability to succeed as monarch is…_irrelevant_?"

When a silky waterfall of blood flowed to the floors of the chambers, the person bearing such hair having grown a few inches taller in height than _everyone _in the room, the other hand suddenly held an ornate pipe with Bull symbols across its base and took it to the lips.

While the Knights were distracted from the conversation by the arrival of Gluttony, the pair of green lights behind the white curtain were about to blaze.

"Though it might be a _cruuuude_ way to put it, think of her as a _stalking horse_. Lady Emilia's appearance is _veeery _particular. Virtually no human being can look at her and not think of the Witch of Envy. She is easily employed as a pawn upon our chessboard."

In other words, Roswaal did _not have any faith to Emilia succeeding the throne at all. _

He was just making things go with the flow.

All of the effort Emilia has done to make sure she will have greater chances in even succeeding, something multiple members of the Necromagi family down to the Souls in Emurdol's wand have witnessed more than a dozen occasions for the past couple weeks, was heartlessly trampled on by Roswaal, _her backer and sponsor._

There was the unheard sound of a pipe's contents being inhaled from full lips, and a couple of gnashing teeth subtly filling the air.

Next to Reinhardt, the sound of bones cracking emanated from the cloaked man right beside him.

Bordeaux asked, "So the Royal Selection between five candidates is actually between _four_?"

"Do you not think that reducing the _oooooptions_ reduces the possibility of dissolution? The current lack of a King invites other Nations to intervene in our internal affairs. Should we not prepare countermeasures to _diminiiiiish _this threat?"

Bordeaux as well as the other Wise Men were nodding in agreement to Roswaal's words.

As Sally lowered her pipe down to her chest, Emurdol unraveled his armored hands from its crossed interlocked place behind his back.

And it happened.

The ear-splitting screams of the Demon of Gluttony and the abominable roars of the Afterlife, accompanied by the sudden arrival of a green cloud and a black blur streaking from the ceiling and descending down on Roswaal.

**"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!‼!‼!‼‼!‼!‼!‼!‼!‼!_"**

The silence came when the sound of neck bones and a jaw let out an audible_ snap._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

In the interior of an eatery within the districts of the Middle Class, a commotion suddenly erupted.

Meili suddenly collapsed to the ground, dropping her tray of burgers and drinks, shattering the plates and glasses as she curled inwardly, painfully, letting out horrible rasps and growls as she clawed at her own neck, her legs kicking uncontrollably and snapping the leg of a nearby table.

"Meili!" Rem leapt up from her chair, knocking it to the floor as she lithely slipped through the panicking people in the way and knelt before the convulsing child.

"He-hey, what the hell is happening!?" Raeburn completely forgot about the half-eaten burger in his hand, dropping it on the table and running over to the child as well.

Zakurah didn't have the time to gawk, only shoving aside the people in the way, almost sending them to the wall, as she gathered around Meili's form alongside his friend and the Maid. "Rem, what's going on!? What's happening to her!? Is she choking!?"

"I-I don't know! I mean, I don't think so!" Rem's composed face was nowhere to be seen, overpowered by fear, panic and concern as she tried to hold back the child's hands from creating anymore lacerations on her neck. "I have never seen her do this before!"

"_Do something_!" Raeburn shouted, the concern coming from all over his form, from body language to facial features, "We have to stop it! Whatever the hell is doing this to her!

"Curse. Is she cursed?" Zakurah asked, keeping her voice composed, "Can you tell if it's a curse!?"

"I don't know either!" Tears were flowing down Rem's eyes, her hands straining against the powerful strength of the child's arms as she kept reaching for her neck and mouth. "I don't feel anything wrong with her!"

"Give us space, people!" Raeburn shouted to those who were circling them very closely, standing up and waving them away, "This ain't a fucking circus! Call a healer or somebody! _NOW_!"

"I-I shall!"

"I'll come with you!"

A pair of boys quickly ran out the door, knocking over chairs and bumping against tables in their frantic sprint before they were out the door, hollering for the nearest healer.

Zakurah laid her gauntleted hand on the struggling child's forehead, trying to get a read on what is actually happening. To her shock, she's seeing nothing. Not even a possession. It was as if she was watching a table fall apart for no reason. It's just _happening_.

Not giving up, she removed her rosary off her neck and put it in-between her hands, shouting to her friend, "Raeburn! Hold her legs!"

"Right!" The man quickly fell to his knees and held them down by the ankles quite easily, attesting to his hidden strength underneath his easily forgettable average features. "Fucking hell, this kid's strong….!"

Knelt on both knees, her rosary in between her armored hands, she began muttering a language that only Raeburn could recognize as Latin, a brilliant glow shining from her whitesteel armor.

Just as suddenly as the phenomena happened, Meili's body went still, her olive green eyes stained red with the blood flowing from her sockets, and her mouth began opening and closing, her pointy teeth making loud snapping sounds in the stiff silence.

The people around them held their breath, wondering if the Lady Knight's magic had actually done something to ease the poor child's suffering.

What they didn't realize, not even Rem, was that Zakurah had _nothing_ to do with her sudden stillness in any way nor _anything _in this establishment with her sudden condition.

When it seemed that all was starting to look stable, a deep screech so loud it shook the ground and anything that wasn't nailed down exploded out of the child's mouth, deafening everyone nearby, especially the three of them.

"**_GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!‼!‼!‼‼!‼!‼!‼!‼!_"**

Without warning, her eyes became clouded in an endless depth of darkness, taking away all white and green before her form became next, suddenly becoming shrouded in an untouchable liquid-like substance of inky black from head to toe, leaving nothing of her to be seen except an imperceptible and light-eating _black_. Rem suddenly lost the solid sensation of Meili's wrists, Raeburn on her ankles, and the apparition slickly passed by Zakurah's form like air and out of the establishment, flying straight towards the roof.

"Meili!" Rem quickly took off after her, bursting out of the establishment with her horn now protruding out of her head and jumped straight up to the roof of the building across the street.

"Come on!" Raeburn urged Zakurah, running over to the black and red Liger that had been dozing a few paces outside the eatery only to be forced awake from the commotion that happened before its master jumped onto the saddle strapped to its back. "Hurry!"

"I'm hurrying!" The Holy Knight took no time in running after her friend, her whitesteel armor giving her no trouble in catching up to his speedy pace and slickly jumped on the saddle, seated behind her friend and wrapping one hand around his waist to hold on. "Go!"

"Hiya!" Cracking the reins, looking straight up to where the Maid was last seen. He commanded, "After 'em, Tank!"

With a vicious bark, the Liger leapt towards the building's walls across the street and bounced straight towards the edge of the roof before easily pulling itself and its two passengers to the flat surface.

The black shroud bouncing from rooftop to rooftop and the maid chasing after it in sight, Tank utilized its martially-trained body to catch up, almost about to outpace the speed of the wind itself.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The Knights stood a safe distance away from the tall blood-haired woman holding a pipe in one hand while the other held her mask against her chest, her face showing a complete lack of concern for the many swords that were aimed her way and instead expressed tedium through her lightless dark blue eyes. Her vapors surrounded her form and hovered above her head like a mist and a thundercloud protectively and threateningly, a second mouth showing on the crook on her neck, gaping widely and angling its teeth to multiple directions like viper fangs.

The rest of the Knights far away from Gluttony's distance as well as the majority of the nobles gawked in disbelieving shock at what was found a few steps away from the double doors of the Throne Room.

Emilia's face was clouded in shock, but Reinhardt's distress overpowered even hers. He had every Divine Blessing possible to know, avoid, and divert _any _attack before they even happened, even if he only saw them once.

And he _did not _see Emurdol's attack on Roswaal coming. Which could only mean that it was _not _an attack but something else entirely. However, such concerns are not relevant in this very moment.

It was fixed solely on the cloaked man.

Emurdol's body was bent fully backwards at the waist, curved towards the floors like a C and his arms hung limply like tassels, everything else below the belt showing nothing but 8 spider legs that seemed to be made out of black bone protruding from the gaps of his leg drapes.

After several moments spent looking at his form in horror, his body suddenly became mobile, the sound of bones rattling inside his body emanating with every movement, his upper body leaning forwards, about to stand up straight, only to bend forward by the waist again, his multiple legs preventing him from hitting the ground entirely.

A chorus of shocked screams and yelps erupted from the crowd due to what was looking back at them, the Knights taking more than a couple steps back at what they are seeing.

_Emurdol's face was looking back at everyone_, his white hair hung upside down from the gravity that it was about to touch the floor, and his jaw had been completely detached from his skull inside his face.

Among the candidates, only Felt, Emilia, and Anastasia took a step back from the gruesome sight, their eyes wide with shock or fright as they covered their mouths. Only Crusch and Priscilla held their ground, the former having drawn her sword while the latter watched with keen eyes, her fan covering her mouth.

Movement arrived once again, Emurdol's upper body rising upwards, and this time, it held itself upright, and _the back of his head_ was facing everyone.

With his elbows bending in unnatural directions, the sound of bones continuing to crackle in the stiff air, he reached up to hold his head, clawing at each side, and he forcefully _twisted _his head back to its original angle, a bone-chilling sound his neck made that more than most nobles flinched from it, his disfigured face now meeting everyone's wide-eyed stares.

His nose bleeding, his green eyes flaring so brightly that they nearly splotched out his face merely by its light and threatening to blind anyone who would stare back at them, his hands reached up to his dislocated jaw, gripping it firmly with two hands and, with a wet snapping sound and a push, aligned it correctly against his skull. The damages done by Roswaal's kick that blew him back to the other side of the room mended.

Angling his mouth once in a circle, testing its condition, sharp teeth bared themselves out of it and he soundlessly hissed, his hair floating as if underwater.

"Truly amazing, Ser Emurdol." Roswaal leered back at him, his mismatched eyes coldly gazing back at the Necromagus' burning glare, "You truly exceed the limits of a human, as if you never were one."

A reply came, and it resounded inside _everybody's_ heads, a demonic growl that only the most horrifying demons of Hell in Pandemonium could ever make. Emurdol rose to a taller height, his black skeletal legs extending even more while a thick cloud of a pure all-encompassing and light-eating **black** fumed out of them, his arms spread apart and brimming with all of his dark energies while the giant aura of a haunting green blazed all over his form, the images of _wailing_ _faces _in them visible to everyone.

And the bloodcurdling, shrill, _whistling_. The dreadful _whistling _which could not be drowned out even if one plugged their ears.

The light of the chambers was starting to dim, receding, from the nearby walls to the highest point at the ceiling, turning day into twilight, as if it was afraid of the Necromagus, attempting to run away from his immeasurable rage.

Emilia had a sense of déjà vu, remembering this eldritch phenomena happening once. A month ago, during Emurdol's first day in the Mansion.

"Once again, you are making quite a show of yourself. But this time, this will inevitably cost you your life."

The growl intensified at Roswaal's frigid words.

"If you desist this moment and apologize, I will allow you to simply leave. But if you insist on having this battle….."

The incredible amounts of mana that was brewing in the Lord's hand materialized into heat, flame, and cinder—forming into a gigantic ball of fire that pushed back the encroaching darkness with its great blazing light like a second Sun.

"….then we will finally see the conclusion of what we should have _finished a month ago_!"

Emurdol pitched his head back, screaming to the ceiling, and everyone thought they were about to be rendered deaf by the mountain-breaking **_roar _**in their minds.

And came the dreaded signs.

_The Darkness that consumed all of Light._

_The cacophony of Screams: The cries of infants; the yells of children; the shrieks of women; the shouts of men; the screeches of the elderly._

_And the Trembling that promised to shatter the world apart._

And amidst all of these horrors, Emilia's purged memories that existed a month ago _finally _returned to her consciousness.

The first she remembered, was the End of the World.


	20. The Abiding Crown

_"Alright, Emilyyy. Open your eeeeyes!"_

_She did and Emilia looked down on the surprise she was told have been waiting for her ever since Meili led her to the most beautiful field of flowers the Earlham Village children have been keeping secret._

_"An ornament of flowers?"_

_"Pffft!" Meili blew a raspberry, "Noooo! It's a _crown_ of flowers! I worked all night making it as pretty as possible, and did you know? It will _never_ wiiiilt, all thanks to Papa's magic."_

_"Did you pull an all-nighter again? That isn't healthy, you know? You'll never grow as tall as your daddy if you don't get enough sleep."_

_Meili sighed heavily, far heavily than what an ordinary child was capable of, and she gripped, "Yes, I didn't. But I told you, I can stay up for four days! My heights not gonna get affected by it but that's not the point!" She stepped up to the half-elf, gathered her composure, and continued, "Consider this a bit of a reheeeeaaarsal. You are going to be the Ruler, nooo? So while you're still a candidate, you'll be wearing this for the time beeeiiiing. And the honor will _solely _be mine to give it to you. But someday, when you _do_ becoming Ruler, it will definitely be Papa who will put the real crown on your head. And when you do, you can give it back to me."_

_The gesture struck Emilia cleanly in the heart, and the lively sensation rolled across it pleasantly. It made her warm, terribly so, and it formed a natural smile on her face without meaning to._

_Her hands clutching each other in front of her chest, her response was so soft, and it was pleasant to the ears thanks to her bell-like voice, "Thank you, Meili."_

_The wyrmm smiled back at her, unspeakable fondness emanating from it, accompanied by an air of maturity that didn't match her age, "Kneel."_

_Full of the smile that was as flowery as the environment around her, Emilia knelt down to both knees and bowed her head. With a solemn air, the Abiding Crown is gently and delicately placed upon on her head._

_With a loud cheer, Meili proclaimed the name of the Future King of Lugnica, "Hail Emilia and praise!" And she clapped nonstop._

_The simplest of gifts is given to her and the half-elf felt immeasurable joy._

_From this day forth, Emilia took it upon herself to treasure the gift forever until the day she sits upon the Throne._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Whistles, wailing, howling, and groaning. No noble nor knight made a single sound under the cacophony of terrors that resonated nonstop in the darkening chambers, quickly knowing that their own voice would be lost amongst those of the unresting Dead that have breached the plane of the Living.

But above all else, many are about to crumble under the white glare of the Pale Horror that hovered over the ground, it's influence forcing them to fall on their knees and quake; its white hair floating from its scalp as if it was trying to escape and knife-shaped ears framing its anger and amplifying the frightening image it gave with its loosely-hanging jaw, its long, morbidly thin arms reaching the floors with its wicked four-fingered claws, and everything else below its bony chest ended in a Shroud of all-encompassing _black_.

Its slouched back seemed to be on fire, colored swamp green by the tremendous amount of mana it exhumed, equaling the might Roswaal's readied spell had. Within those flames were the _faces_ of the departed, filling the noise with their miserable wailing and crying, a frequency so haunting the nobles quivered from it. A phenomena made possible by the imperceptible tear of Reality behind him, a passage to the Afterlife.

The Knights stood back safely, their swords aimed at the Horror and the Demon of Gluttony that overlooked the whole spectacle with an unchanging look of pure tedium. The nobles went back as far as the walls, doing their best to not be caught by its fury. The Council of Elders remained in their seats, stiff and looking at everything with wide eyes. The candidates were at certain levels of alarmed, from intrigued to outright terrified.

Roswaal, however, remained where he is, in the center of the red carpet, holding the second Sun in his hand, fighting back against the encroaching darkness and the fear worming into his head while aiming a cold yellow eye in the Terror's direction.

"If the world were to burn, I must at least return a thousandfold of your fury back at you." The Clown reared back his fist, "Behold! The greatest might of fire mana—**Al Goa!**"

With a pitch of his hand, the fireball flew straight at Emurdol, the heat nearing to incinerate the apparition straight into the Afterlife behind it.

With a shrill and deafening scream, it charged the noble as soon as the spell flew, digging its claws into the floors and dragging itself forward at terrifying speeds towards the careening ball of fire, its smoky lower half trailing after it. Following after it were the very same Wraiths that tore Greed itself to pieces, disembodied and emaciated heads glowing a blinding white escaping out of the Tear, white tendrils trailing after them like hair, screaming an ear-piercing cry as they went to punish the noble.

Everyone held their breaths before the collision was made, and when one Wraith would eat the fire spell while the rest would fly straight for Roswaal's form to wring it to pieces, the last thing the Terror saw was a blur of white heading straight for the middle between the two opposing forces.

And the impact happened, the fire ball snuffed out under a white light coating the Horror's form as it suddenly held itself in place, the momentum it created from its wild charge seeming to disappear, and it ignored the light covering its lanky form that killed the spell and turned it into white steam, instead pointing a scathing white glare at Roswaal.

As the onlookers gaped, a bell-like voice spoke in a very frigid voice, something the consciousness inside the Terror has never heard before.

"This must stop. I will abide any violence and outrage no longer in my presence. If you wish to continue….."

Then came an androgynous voice that followed after, the icy quality behind it matching the chill that was spreading throughout the chamber, similar but opposite to the heat wrought by Roswaal's magic, manifesting Puck's tranquil wrath.

"….then I am prepared to wield my power as my beloved daughter's demands." The tiny cat crossed his arms, snorting at everything that noticed his appearance, especially the Knights that now turned their blades to him. "You lowly humans are saying quite some things in front of her."

The whistling and moaning in the air continued, the darkness stilling from its devouring onslaught, but Puck's threat overpowered the chambers into silence, made more palpable by the cold that turned everyone's breath into a mist.

The head of the Council of Elders carried a mountain-like composure, and his murmur pierced through the stiff air like a thunderbolt, "The Apocalypse Beast of Eternal Frost."

Puck's ears flicked as he turned to the old man, "Ah, I remember. People _did _call me that a lot. Seems you're very informed for a young'n."

Miklotov's response contrasted the stiff atmosphere, "To be treated like a youngster at my age is something to treasure deeply for the rest of my life."

Puck flicked his long tail at him, "Call me whatever you like. If you want to have details about me, ask him."

The head turned to Roswaal, "Then I shall. Lord Roswaal?"

With a noble flourish, Roswaal solemnly lowered his head and motioned to Emilia and the Apocalypse Beast with one hand, "As you have guessed, Lord Miklotov, this is a supernatural being, one of the Great Spirits of yore, known to our forefathers as the Apocalypse Beast of the Eternal Frost. And currently, Lady Emilia's contracted spirit."

The bald and stocky Elder fixed Puck with a wide-eyed stare, his voice hoarse from the shock of what he heard, "I….it can't be….! One of the Four Great Spirits…in someone's service….and that of a half-demon at that!"

The momentarily-ignored Pale Horror behind the Apocalypse Beast and Emilia _roared_, its red mouth with a loosely-hanging jaw widening even further, pitching his entire body forward as it bellowed a horrifying and tortured scream at the insolent Elder, making the latter recoil from the sight and sound of it. The Wraiths that were held back from mutilating every living being in the room except the Terror strained against the green smoky cages that kept them immobile. Gluttony had the lives of many people under her hands by holding their leashes.

Puck never so much as twitched from the roaring that was directly right behind him, at eye level with the Horror as he floated, his arms kept crossed on his furry chest as he addressed Bordeaux, "_You_ included, young'n. All of you ought to be thankful. This place isn't turning into the biggest glacier the Capital has ever seen because my cute, beloved daughter pleaded to me, so I will behave. If she wasn't stopping me….you'd all be icicles by now."

The way the threat was so casually delivered made it even frostier and easier to believe, causing an even colder chill to run down the people's spine.

"And you should all be thanking me too, because I'm the only one who can stop _this_ little puppy from massacring all of you to bloody pieces for making a mouth at someone it respected. That means double the thanks to my Lia because she didn't want it to." Puck turned to the Horror, eye to eye with its gaze that had no pupil, floating up to its forehead and patting its forehead like a pet, "That's a good boy. Don't worry, they stopped with the naughty words."

By doing such a thing to a grotesque being that everyone in the room has _never _seen in their entire lives, Puck had made himself even more of a powerful threat if even _he _can hold the Horror back.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Someone was laughing.

Miklotov was slapping his knees, losing control from his out-of-place mirth. It completely threw off everyone around him, especially in the dreaded atmosphere. "Hoho! Even my heart skipped a beat!" His laughter still boiling, he addressed Puck, "Allow me to call this a most amusing presentation."

Instantly, Puck dropped his cold expression and shrugged his shoulders helplessly, turning to Roswaal. "Aw, we're busted. I told ya, Roswaal. Overdoing it wasn't a good idea in the first place."

The chill and tension of the room was gone, the whistling and moaning of the Dead as well as the darkness abruptly disappearing to imagination too, bringing back the original lighting of the interior. Amidst all the bewilderment of this development, Roswaal groaned and slapped his own forehead, "Oh _myyyy_! And I thought it was actually convincing, especially with Ser _Emuuuurdol's_ fantastic adlibbing…..it's so _dispiiiriting_, it truly is."

"W-wait! What the hell are you talking about!?"

The Pale Horror's elongated jaw suddenly adjusted, morphing into a perfectly proportional mouth that fit its ugly and terrifying visage. For the slightest of moments, there was the look of complete _defeat _in its features as it stopped floating and instead rested its four-fingered hands to the floor, supporting its own weight.

At the side, Gluttony shook her head in disappointment and took a delicate pull of her pipe, hoping for the green vapors to actually relax her Flesh Golem body and ease her nonexistent mind. It didn't.

Whatever joke it was that Miklotov realized, only the latter, Puck, Roswaal, the blood-haired woman and the Horror were in it. The Lord turned to the bewildered Bordeaux and said, "Simply put, Lord Bordeaux, this exchange was actually the _speech_ from Lady Emilia's Camp. I understand that the format differs quite a lot compared to the other candidates but…..the point is already clear, no?"

It was all an act, to show that Emilia has considerable amounts of power in her hands, especially when an _Apocalypse Beast _is under her command. That was the point of it all, and everyone realizes that, including Bordeaux.

The latter carried the strongest sense of being had among all of them. "That was _acting_…._acting_!? _Everything_ was a farce, from start to finish!? Damn you, Roswaal! What do you think this place is!?"

"I apologize, Lord Bordeaux." Roswaal bowed, keeping his eyes trained on the Wise Man, "However, what the Great Spirit said still holds true. If it were not for Lady Emilia's mercy and goodwill, we wouldn't be able to talk like this."

Bordeaux met his gaze with a strong glare, "Are you threatening me, Roswaal? Are you blackmailing _me_, a member of the Council of Elders….!?"

"Yes." To the man's shock, Emilia answered the question, "I am threatening you. I would like to address the esteemed members of the Council of Elders once more. My name is Emilia. I spent a long time in the Great Forest of Elior, the Land of Eternal Frost, and am served by Puck, the Great Spirit of Fire. I am a silver-haired half-elf. The people of the nearby villages called me…."

She paused, surveying the faces of the Wise Men.

"….the Witch of Frost, born in the Frozen Forest."

Silence came, everybody's mouths clamping shut at the mention of that one term this Kingdom was highly allusive to.

Miklotov spoke, presenting his iron-strong nerves once again, "You displayed your power, and now you state your demands. Truly befitting the ways of a Witch. Then what does the Witch of Frost seek in threatening us so?"

"I have but a single demand." Emilia put a hand to her chest, resolve and strength coating her amethyst eyes, "I want a fair election."

"…Fair?"

"I understand that I am regarded with prejudice both for being a half-elf and a witch. But even so, I strongly refuse to let such a thing rob me of all possibilities."

"And so you desire to be treated fairly as a candidate for the Royal Selection?"

"Fairness is an exceedingly valuable thing to me. That is the only thing I demand of you: to be treated impartially and justly. In turn, I shall do nothing unjust, such as use my contracted Spirit as a sword and shield with which to usurp the Royal Throne."

Such demands expressed a show of humility and honor. With such power in her hands that could allow her to do something like that with little amount of trouble and yet she decides to do things in a way that actually hampered her, no one could miss the meaning behind it.

"Compared to the other candidates, I am inexperienced and lacking in too many areas. There are a mountain of things I do not know and must study. Even so, I believe my effort to reach my goal is no less than the other."

Gluttony marveled at her oration, her lips slightly curling into a smile at her show of spine and might. All the resolve she gathered for this moment, finally given the chance to be shown and ingrain it to everybody's heads. Inside the vessel, Viandegroc applauded nonstop.

"I do not know if my efforts are worthy of the throne. But my desire to make my efforts equal to the task is genuine. I believe these feelings are not unequal to that of the other candidates. Therefore, please look at me with neutral eyes. Look at me as Emilia of no family name. See not the Witch of Frost nor the silver-haired half-elf, look at _me_."

The chamber fell into silence at the end of her speech that almost sounded like a solemn plea, echoing in the entire chambers. They waited for the Wise Men. They waited for the stubborn Elder, Bordeaux. The Horror highly expected his response to be satisfactory.

Finally, he sighed, "My view shall not change. It is unmistakable that your appearance, reminiscent of the Witch of Envy, will have ill effects upon the populace. It would place the Royal Selection in a precarious state."

The Pale Horror growled, blood beginning to leak out of its teeth-covered jaw. Gluttony seethed out the vapors in-between her upper teeth and lower lip. And Emilia's eyes became shadowed.

However, Bordeaux wasn't finished, "However, sentiment is an area where none may intrude. Furthermore, it is something no one can do anything about, no matter what he may think."

Then, he _knelt_ right then and there, all of his respect laid bare for Emilia to see in all of its glory that she was greatly taken aback by it.

"Even so, I deeply apologize for my rudeness, Lady Emilia. You could freeze me where I stand if I do not submit to your will, or even set loose that monstrosity upon my flesh. Yet, you have not, asking only for fair treatment. This is an act worthy of respect."

At this moment, Bordeaux finally befitted his position as a Wise Man of the Council. His face was gentle and intellectual, showing no more of that bigoted look he had on her moments ago, truly reflecting wisdom one should have in his advanced years. His words brought such immeasurable joy on Emilia's face, turning her lips into a pleasant and flowery smile.

Such a sight is powerful enough to take away Bordeaux's breath and bring a blush to his face.

The head hummed, pleased at the development, "Though that was a rather stormy digression, enough has been said, I believe. Lady Emilia, Margrave Roswaal, do you have anything left to add?"

"No."

"I have not spoken _suffiiiiiiciently. _What to _dooo_, what to _dooooo_…"

Miklotov wasn't going to indulge the clown, "Thank you very much." He stepped up to Roswaal to give the Lord a pat on the back before returning to his chair.

"Alright." Puck turned to the Horror, "Show's over, Emurdol. Take off your costume."

"When you uttered in my head **'Play Along'**," Roswaal briefly imitated that grisly dialogue the eldritch voice always had, coming out as a raspy emulation that would have been laughable, "I was _soooo _shocked that my foot moved on its own when you suddenly attacked me! Thank goodness you could _recooooover_ from that. It was so appalling, I _aaaaalmost_ broke character."

"I actually thought you were gonna change into that monster again, Emurdol, but I see what you've done." Puck moved to touch the Horror's forehead again, and his paw _phased _through the white flesh, "You're just an illusion. Changing would'a made it all worse."

"_Indeeeed_." Dramatically, Roswaal mimed a faint as he put the back of his hand to his forehead, "Causing the End of the World in this very Castle would have _majoooor_ consequences, especially to our Lady Emilia. Words cannot describe how _glaaaaaad _I am that you noticed what's going on, Ser _Eeeeeemurdol_."

Gone was the pale horror, and instead, what was visible to the naked eye was a representation of its form in the same black smoke that made up its lower half, and what should have been its arms were actually a large pair of black skeletal hands.

Very few people ever managed to catch on to the trick. There was no Horror to begin with. It was just an illusion, including the noises and the darkness.

Slowly, the smoke receded inwards, as if the source that was seeping them out is now drawing them back in, deemed to be no longer needed. As the shrouds thinned, the actor behind the masquerade is left bare to every eye and they widened in surprise.

The Death Mage, Emurdol's upper body, was hunched over, his head covered by both his arms, having been the one that made up the Pale Horror's head and neck the whole time before he straightened his posture. His lower half below the waist sported a gigantic human ribcage of black bone, the massive pair of skeletal hands connected to its large shoulders and supported its heavy frame from the ground. Down the spine, there was no pelvis. Instead, it's a long tail that had once been a smoky trail that followed after it.

With his arms spread, his hands glowing in green necromantic energy, his torso-like lower half deconstructed, joints disconnecting and melting, the spine-tail shortening into a third leg. The massive skeletal arms steadily deconstructed at an even pace, making sure Emurdol doesn't topple over, morphing back into the pair of stilts that made up his legs. The ribcage seeming to have disappeared in the ivory depths, sinking into the new pair of legs at equal proportions, the tail having merged into them as well, the image slowly became more and more humane.

In time, Emurdol was now back to normal, stood straight before Emilia, Puck and Roswaal. Save for the red on his scarred neck, he looked just like the way he did before everything was thrown into chaos.

And he suddenly curled over, coughing into his gauntlet palm, splattering the black metal with his blood. "Tsk." He clicked his tongue distastefully.

"Emurdol!" Emilia quickly ran over to him, holding his shoulders.

"That's what happens when you take it _tooooo_ seriously…" A honeysweet remark graced everyone's ears, drawing attention to the most beautiful woman in the room that rivaled Priscilla as she took a pull from her pipe with one hand, tucked her mask under her right arm with the other and presented a little vial of red liquid in her delicate hand, as if it was already there. "You are quite the drama king….."

With a kiss to the elixir of healing, Sally blew green vapors into the container and it was carried by the products of her pipe towards Emilia's reaching hand, akin to a flying kiss.

Quickly taking it in hand, Emilia popped off the cork and held Emurdol's chin, gently raising it up. "Here, drink up."

Gauntleted hands reached up to hold her wrist before gently taking the vial from her hand. He straightened his posture and tilted his head back as he downed its contents, and all watched his neck lose its red tinge, the damaged skin mending itself as if time was rewinding backwards.

With a relieved sigh, the vial suddenly disappeared from his hand and he bowed gratefully to Emilia in a very knightly way, a hand to his chest and the other horizontally placed against his back.

Righting himself, he held out his right hand to the still-caged Wraiths in the air and made a crushing gesture. With a flick of Sally's pipe, the green enclosures disappeared and they suddenly were shoved back into the Afterlife in unison to the downward swing of Emurdol's arm, disappearing to thin air and leaving behind a grudging howl in their departure.

Finished, he connected his right hand to his left behind his back and crossed arms, turning on the point of his left stilt and walked back to the reorganized line of knights.

Just as Emilia was about to do the same, walking to the line of candidates while Roswaal moved to return to the nobles, Miklotov's voice called out, "By the way, what is that man's position to your faction, Lady Emilia?"

The Necromagus and the half-elf froze in their steps, turning to face the head with surprise.

Idly, Sally let out thin trails of green from her lips, knowing what's about to happen.

Tension made its way to Emilia's face, "Ah….err, this is my….um….."

A hand laid itself on her hand, making her turn to see Roswaal's face smiling at her, "_Allooooow_ me."

Nodding to her, he stood before the dais and bowed to them in courtesy. He turned to her Emurdol and beckoned him over, "Kindly introduce yourself to the Council of Wise Men, Vassal-in-waiting of Lady Emilia."

The first response was to scowl and purse his lips. But after a couple of seconds, he schooled his expression, turning his face into an expressionless mask and he wordlessly stepped forward and eventually reached Roswaal's side. Sally followed after him, but only staying in the same distance as Emilia, at arms-reach distance beside the latter. With polished motion, Emurdol clapped the rhythm of greetings before bowing.

With every mind present, the eldritch voice resonated in their heads with a very formal tone that neither Emilia nor Roswaal recognized.

**"I extend my Salutations to the members of the Council of Elders, to the Royal Knights of the Kingdom, and to the nobles gathered. My name is Emurdol Viandegroc, supporter of the Lady Emilia and a defender of her honor."**

"And I am Selena Samara Netheridge, former Marchioness of the long gone Netheridge Domain." Gluttony's voice was also completely different than usual, speaking in the remarkable frequency that she was once capable of in her Living life back in Pandemonium, speaking to the other Lords and Ladies in a grace that was unexpected of her very young age. "Regard my presence as irrelevant for I shall act as his speaker."

And she bowed, speaking in unison with the eldritch voice.

**"It is my privilege to meet you."**  
"It is my pleasure to meet you."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Hmmm…." Miklotov leveled with the Necromagus alongside the other Wise Men and the nobles, stroking his beard in contemplation, "….thanks to the aggressive display you've made earlier, I admit I'm a little surprised to see you act the way you are now."

"It is an honor." Sally replied to him, the lip of her pipe nowhere close to her own.

There was a pause, acknowledging that the Death Mage isn't replying and the woman's proclaimed role is actively played, "If I may ask, with your skin tone, could you possibly hail from the Kingdom of Gusteko?"

Emurdol shook his head, with Sally following up a verbal response, "He does not. His loyalty lies only to himself and his kin, and that includes Lady Emilia."

"Kin, you say?"

"Kindly do not misunderstand that as if they are related. He is part of Lady Emilia's faction, and any faction that earns loyalty from him is something of a privilege that must be treasured, for none can easily have it."

Then Roswaal added, "And it is by very unlikely circumstances that led to his meeting with her and granting him a place in the Emilia Camp."

In the background, Sally placed a hand on the tense Emilia's shoulders, giving her an assuring nod, giving her the message that everything will be alright.

"Very well….may I have a brief summation regarding his origins, Lord Roswaal?"

"I shall." With a bow, the Lord gestured to the Death Mage with a hand, "Though I was only given snippets of it, I have understood much that Ser Emurdol and his kind are of a different breed compared to normal humans, equal to that with a demihuman, even though he _is _human."

"Interesting, could that explain why he was able to survive such a fatal injury earlier?"

"Indeed." Roswaal nodded, "His people originate from a species of humans that have lived deep within the ground for an entire millennia. Their culture and language is completely different to that of ours, drastically so that it would be considered outright alien in our eyes. Such conditions rendered their flesh and hair as white as the deceased and their vision more adapted to the darkness than any animal. Not only that, but his body is completely different to that of a regular human, where his organs are fundamentally different in structure and shape. If one is ever to face him or one of his kind in combat, it would take more than an army to prove a match."

Miklotov appraised the information given, "It is strange. Even in the Castle's libraries, there is no such records of his kind ever written before, even among the tomes that date back to before the Covenant was formed."

"Then it is our privilege to be graced with his presence, for he finally decided to let their existence be known to us." Roswaal mentioned.

"Then, how did you and Lady Emilia come into contact with him?"

Sally gave the tense Emilia's shoulder a squeeze.

"A month ago, the assassin, the Bowel Hunter, had made an attempt on Lady Emilia's life." Shocked murmurs began among the nobles, less to the fact that such an attempt was done to a half-elf but more to the fact that the presence of one of the worst killers just happened to be inside the Kingdom. Fewer were aware of the fact that more than a few guards have been murdered during the same day. "Fortunately, Ser Emurdol have moved into her defense without a second thought. Though the Sword Saint may have been the one to end the spectacle, it was by this man's actions that things have not been led to the worse."

"He was fatally injured in the aftermath. His abdomen was severely damaged and his right hand was driven to the point of no return." Emilia added, holding her fist in front of her chest, "I have been indebted to him since then."

"So, because of such circumstances, you employed him to your faction as a form of gratitude?"

"Actually….." Roswaal raised up a finger, wearing a cryptic smile, "…things didn't take such an idealistic turn."

He turned to Emurdol, giving him the stage. The latter nodded, and Sally began to speak again, "He is supposed to claim his reward and then leave after 5 days under the care of the Mathers Mansion. However, there came an incident that befell the Mathers Domain. A spy had allowed a pack of witchbeasts to breach into one of the nearby villages and endangered six children. If it were not for his timely intervention, those poor souls would have lost their lives and left their parents grieving."

Roswaal delicately placed a hand to his own neck, "The price Ser Emurdol paid for such great service to my domain is the loss of his speech. The witchbeasts ripped it off his neck when he was cornered and outside his guard." He turned around, facing the Sword Saint specifically, ignoring the growing murmurs amongst the crowd, "Ser Reinhardt, a month ago, do you remember of certain a day when the mana of the world had suddenly diverted its pathways to my lands before they suddenly returned to where they belonged, preventing multiple catastrophes from happening all over?"

Recognition lit up in Reinhardt's eyes, so did everyone in the chambers, from knight to noble, immense shock clouding everyone's features, and the Knight nodded, composed, "I have. I was about to make my way over to the domains to see what was going on but you sent me a letter saying that the matter has been dealt with."

"A minor earthquake occurred in the Capital during the time." Miklotov mentioned, "It drove most of the populace into a bit of a frenzy, causing much concern and question amongst the people with many rumors rising up from it. It is dubbed as the 'Great Influx' by all, especially from the other Nations." He turned to Emurdol, "If I were to assume, could it be because of Ser Emurdol as well?"

Steeling himself, Roswaal nodded. The murmurs were even louder amongst the nobles, causing opinions like a plot planned by the half-demon to destroy the world and other unsavory assumptions.

Emilia could hear them all very well, she wanted to correct them all but Sally prevented her from doing so, squeezing her shoulder with a lot more pressure than necessary and shook her head. "Trust him as he had trusted you."

Emilia bit her lip in worry.

"Due to awful circumstances that led to a falling out between my staff and Ser Emurdol, it devolved into a spat that demanded my attention." More than most of the people in the chambers knew that he was downplaying what actually happened that day. If it was enough to literally shake the Kingdom from his domain and even drain the world's mana, it must have been something to be seen in order to be believed, "It is uncertain how long the argument has lasted but things have thankfully settled themselves in a matter of minutes. After time for as long as two weeks, Ser Emurdol and the Emilia Camp have finally come to an agreement, which led to the wholesome relationship between him and Lady Emilia."

Emilia was now very conflicted inside, as the memories she regained could perfectly recall that horrible day, where the world was falling apart and the entire Mathers domain was being ravaged by calamities she has never seen in her life. She wanted answers, especially from Emurdol himself.

The head hummed once more, "Hmmm. I see. This has been very informative, thank you, Lord Roswaal."

"Happy to please." The Lord bowed in respect.

"Now, Ser Emurdol." Miklotov turned to Emurdol, looking at him directly in the eye, the sharp quality of his gaze making the Death Mage stiffen, "I have a question for you. Would you kindly answer it?"

Emurdol was still, immobile as a statue that no one could see him breathe or even blink.

After a dozen seconds, he nodded. Not all were able to see it, due to how very little motion was found in it.

"Very well. I have been a witness to your power, as had been everyone in this very chambers, and attesting to Roswaal's claims, you carry such immeasurable power that could break the world asunder. Do you deny them?"

Instantly, Emurdol shook his head, submitting to his fate as having that information about him known, practically handicapping him for the future. "He does not deny. Had Emilia's speech not been an act, he would have enacted the Great Influx just to get back at the ones who would tarnish Lady Emilia's honor, regardless of the presence of the Apocalypse Beast, the Court Magician of Lugnica, or even the Sword Saint."

This time, Sally did nothing to comfort Emilia's risen distress, as she would not approve of such a thing done for her sakes. The growing worry and concern amongst the nobles didn't help either.

"Understood. And now here is my final question; with such power, how far will you go to ensure that Lady Emilia shall succeed the throne? As a vassal-in-waiting, what resolve do you have to carry on such a task to someone you have only met for only a month?"

Silence. Complete silence. The entire chambers awaited his response, from knight to noble. He turned around, to face Emilia, his supposed 'master'. She looked at him very intently, giving him the sign that she truly wishes to know just how far someone like him would go for her.

The questions that have been hanging around his head ever since the Ceremony began came again, try as he did to not think about them:

Why?

Why should he devote all of his power to the half-elf?

Beyond the reason of being friends, why must he go so far for her?

Does the Royal Selection actually concerned him or his daughter in any way?

_"As a friend, this Priest will find ways to take away all your sufferings and keep it for himself."_

Emurdol's green eyes glowed, remembering the day he had grown the heart to live again, the day he was given the choice to hold off his peace with the Dragon.

_"The prejudice you suffer from, it doesn't__ belong__ to you. The Order of the Serpent has been feared and hated since only the Dragon knows when. Our sufferings has long since become a part of our lives, yours are __not__. The feats of the Order of the Serpent preceded the Catastrophe created by the Witch of Envy. The birth of my people's suffering preceded the birth of __your__ people's suffering, the half-elves. This __crime __will not stand."_

Then, resolution.

He turned to face the head once again, and this time, he did not wait for Sally to speak for him. His mouth mimed his words, and the eldritch voice matched the beat in unison.

**"Even for a month, that is enough time for my kind to know certain things about the people they recognize as a friend. In my time spent living under the same roof as this half-elf, I have learned many things, big or small about her."**

He isn't so dense as to not notice his own feelings for her. It isn't related to his Link to Meili in any way, where the child's fondness for Emilia is passing on to him. His feelings are pretty unique, and they hold a certain view over Emilia.

**"She is a _child. _She speaks the truth when she says she knows very little and still has much to learn. She is incapable of matching the same wavelength as people her age; her whims and aims are so childish; naïve too. Her mental strength is completely laughable, she would fall if nothing to hold on to is right beside her."**

She is nothing but a _child _to him. A child that he looked down on but completely held hope for. It is completely different to how he sees his daughter. While he is completely certain of Meili to succeed anything she sets her eyes on and he will always be optimistic for her, Emilia is different. Her entire being _compels _him to think like an Above-Worlder around her. He _doubted_, and he _can't_ stand to see her fall.

He turned around to see the look on Emilia's face. She had the look on her face as if her hopes had been completely dampened, the crestfallen visage about to fall into tears. Sally did nothing to console her, standing perfectly still like a statue.

**"Someone like her has _no_ business taking part in something as harrowing as a race for the Seat of Power. By stepping into this competition, she is doing nothing but walking into the trap that shall make her the ultimate pariah of the Kingdom. An act of stupidity itself, truly befitting of a _child_ who knows nothing."**

Emilia's face shadowed, but the tears that ran down to her cheeks cannot be hidden as she bowed down, the drooping angle of the flower petals on her crown reflecting her mental state, unable to bear anymore of his words.

However, he wasn't done. He's only pointing out the initial parts of it, and he's very eager to follow up.

**"In fact, she would fit in better in a garden, maintaining flowers or playing with animals that come to her hand. Maybe she would be better off frolicking with little children, taking part in their silly little games and indulge in the little things that make life truly matter." **

Shock came upon the half-elf at his diversion as she slowly raised her glistening orbs of amethyst back to him, so did the rest of the nobles. At the side, Roswaal smirked deviously and proudly.

**"Or, she could be courted by a man who cares the least about her lineage and more about her kind heart. Whether he be human or demihuman, half-blooded or not, he will _love_ this girl for who she is and give her the happiness she never thought existed, the kind that only a family can have. The joy my people sought for."**

He found that happiness himself, in Meili, in his love for Rem, in the daily life he had in the Mansion with everyone else. It was the essence of _Family_.

**"In time, they would wed and rear beautiful children. As time goes on, as long as her elven lineage could allow, she will grow the heart to create a future for the Kingdom where everyone will be treated equally, regardless of race, culture and origin. Her little family might create a settlement somewhere, a place for mistreated demihumans to take refuge in. They will be given the equality she cherishes most, and they will feel at home in her presence. In time, her residents will share her goal of equality and devote all of their body and soul into making it happen, to spread that feeling of impartialness she desires most."**

If such a thing have happened, he will have no words for how noble such a mistreated existence like her could ever make in spite of what's about to happen because of it. This Kingdom does not have a good opinion towards demihumans, especially because of the Demihuman War 40 years ago.

That future will become a treasure, a wealth that only those close to their soul could truly see its true value. He _will_ be drawn to that value, craving for it, desiring to have it before anyone else could. If he cannot restrain himself, then he can do one thing for that wealth:

**"And I will devote _all_ of my being to protect it, with all of my flesh and with all of my Soul. I will sire her young as my godchildren. All of her subjects shall be put under my protection. All she considered allies shall become allies of my kin. They will bear the privileges that many men have craved ever since discovering the benefits my powers can give."**

Without a hint of a lie or hesitation, he truly meant what he said. He will truly devote his life to something as grand as that. It had meaning—it _creates _meaning, and he can even say that Priests of the Serpent will be compelled to do the same, as such a settlement purely reflects what the Underground City and its inhabitants are. Mistreated and misunderstood because of social stigmas, created by the dictations of Idiots that made up the whole of humankind.

Then Emurdol's tone that had been rising in intensity and emotion had suddenly become soft, as if he was acknowledging something unfortunate as a missed opportunity. The might glow of his green orbs dulled alongside it.

**"But Emilia did not choose that path, where things could have been easy. Instead, she chose to take the path of thorns, gnashing teeth and cursed words."**

Emilia's mien slowly rebuilt its resolution upon the end of his sentence. There was a message in Emurdol's eyes as he looked at her, and she understood them very well despite hearing nothing inside her head.

_Are you willing to go through with this? Are you willing to throw away that future, for the sake of your own goals?_

She nodded, without hesitation and doubt. Her choice is made, and nothing else can sway her anymore.

He returned that nod very subtly, acknowledging her decision.

**"If that is her choice, then I will follow after her footsteps to see where this road will take her."**

He sharply turned to face the Wise Men once more, his eyes glowing in a steady light as he gestured a hand to Emilia, speaking in the most driven of tones, leaving his intentions bare for all to know and see.

**If this silver-haired half-elf is willing to strive for something grand as the Seat of Power, then I _must _see it through. If she is so willing to face the brunt of the harm and hate she will suffer due to her lineage as the spitting image of the Witch of Envy solely for the sake of her ambitions….then I will devote all of my might to see what it bores fruit to. Woe betide the scum who would stand in the way, for I will _not _stand for it."**

With a single clap of his armored hands before his face, his form exhumed power, momentarily tainting the air before sucking it back in. The brief display of prowess blew back his cloak, exposing the bones on his person that made the indications of his lineage. With pride in his voice and the dignity of a Death Mage in his person, he introduced himself once again.

**"My name is Emurdol Viandegroc. I am a Priest of the Serpent, a Necromagus of the Order of the Serpent, and my kind has been subjected to the same prejudice she suffers from. But such views have vanished long ago, and I aim to help her bring along the same change, to end the bigotry that made her kind and others of the same circumstances suffer so, so I can be proud of the life I live and pass on in peace to the Afterlife."**

The atmosphere in the chambers were a mix now. Some were taken in, some were in disagreement, and some were indifferent, but Emurdol made the choice to make himself known to the Kingdom. It would not be any different otherwise, as being connected to Emilia means being exposed to the public as much as she was. Considering how the Order of the Serpent doesn't even exist here, there is no worry about anyone having him cornered by using his lineage and from having to explain why he of such a profession is being too involved in something like this.

The head hummed, stroking his beard. "Hmmm. Thank you for your answer, Ser Emurdol. Will that be all?"

Straightening his posture and crossing his arms behind his back, he nodded. Turning around, he stepped down from the dais and walked to the line of knights, with Sally following close behind, putting on her mask and hiding the pipe in her robes, the long bloody hair trailing on the floors.

Before he lost her in his peripheral vision, without turning his head, Emurdol met eye contact with Emilia's purple orbs, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

At Emurdol's request before he was back to the line, the Knight Captain allowed him to leave the chambers.

The reason to depart from the chambers is simple: he needed to be at some place where he can relax his nerves after making such a grandiose performance in front of many people. He has _never _done anything like that in his life, and it overwhelmed him more than the presence of Greed when he legitimately pissed him off to the point where he literally destroyed the Castle they were fighting in. It's especially amazing that he managed to make everything look like he could hold himself amidst all that pressure like a proper showman.

_By the Dragon, I am _never _going to do that again….!_

The guardsman that was escorting him noticed the dour look on his face and asked about it, "Did something happen, Ser?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he mimed the words. **"I am simply unable to bear the stiff atmosphere in that room. I wish to be some place where I can relax."**

The guardsman flinched at the quality of his voice, oblivious to where it was actually coming from, but he quickly regained his composure and replied, "I understand. They are deciding the future of the Kingdom, after all. I myself would quiver just for being present there."

**"What is that?" **The eldritch voice suddenly took a grim tone as Emurdol looked at the end of the corridor, where a ruckus seemed to be happening.

Just before the guardsman turned to look as well, another guardsman popped in, body language in a frantic hurry. "Pardon, open the way! We've captured an intruder while another has eluded us! We need orders from the captain!"

Concern overpowered Emurdol's consciousness, his Link sending him unsettling implications.

"Wait! They're still in the middle of a conference! Hold the intruder in the barracks until furth—"

"The circumstances do not allow us that! Not while the other is still somewhere!"

Emurdol suddenly stepped in front of the shouting guardsman, causing the latter to take a sudden step back as his towering height and intense green gaze that burned a hole in his skull, asking in a very grotesque tone, **"Have you seen what the intruder looks like? Answer me this instant!"**

The man barely managed to reply at the intensity of his demand, "I only caught a glimpse, but the intruder was small like a child, and wearing black garbs. I think there was silver hair as well—

**"That intruder's _MINE_!"**

And by that shout, Emurdol's entire body became a formless cloud of pure _black _and blew into the long corridor, slipping past the guardsman in front of him and passing through Rom's large body as he was pulled forward by four shocked soldiers before the Shroud escaped to the nearest opening that led outside.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

As he figured, it actually was Meili who broke into the Castle.

He found her hiding in one of the buildings, highly inconspicuous thanks to the Shroud around her person that allowed her to blend in perfectly in the shadows. Being a former assassin, she had her own skill of stealth to add up to it, and it did well to elude the many guards that were searching all over for her.

The guards were baffled when Emurdol easily picked her up from the shadow of a tall potted plant, especially when they have passed by her more than a couple times already. When they moved to take her off his hands and leave the situation to the Captain's orders, the Necromagus simply told them that the intruder is under his custody and report this development to the Knight Captain instead. Once he demanded it, he left them without another word, hugging his charge very closely and protectively to his chest.

Not a single word was exchanged between Father and Daughter. Each other's presence is what mattered more. What led to their own circumstances is the last thing they want to discuss.

It took time before he finally reached the waiting room he was supposed to be escorted to. It remarkably looked modest compared to the castle corridors, little amount of golden adornments and even the smell of plants were quite prominent thanks to the garden pots present. A nice place to relax. Emurdol approves of it.

Taking the biggest sofa, Meili curled into a ball on his lap and hugged his left hand to her chest, the gauntlet removed to allow her numb right hand to feel every bit of his flesh, practically crushing it.

His other hand supported her head that leaned against the right side of his armored chest, the bones surrounding it removed for the moment, softly stroking her locks with his skeletal digits while kissing her forehead from time to time. As he did, he fed her mana, giving ease to her distressed mental state.

He could only imagine just what had happened when she felt his neck twist through the Link. In fact, he _already _knows what happened even if they haven't spoken to each other about it, but he's refusing to acknowledge it, so he forced them from ever entering his awareness. The ugly sensation in his heart made his eyes glow disdainfully, at himself and at the bastards in the chambers.

Some time later, Reinhardt and Felix entered the waiting room, first turning their eyes to Emurdol that sat at the very left side of the couch, then to the little one that was curled up in his lap, wearing the most content look on her face, the white of her eyes slightly showing through the small crack in-between her eyelids.

"Ooh, look at her~! Ain't that the cutest thing I've ever seen~!?"

Emurdol was glad he put a deafening curse on his daughter before she heard any of that. She would not appreciate being disturbed from her indulgence in his delicious mana. Meili would suck out more than half of Felix's mana in retaliation. She had done such a thing to Rem once and it left the two asleep in bed for a long time.

**"What brought you two here?" **Even as he asked that, Emurdol remained static in his place, his lips still on Meili's forehead while his skeleton hand made little scratches on her head.

"Well, interesting developments have occurred while you were gone, Emurdol." Reinhardt replied, wearing a rather proud smile. "Felt has changed her mind regarding her unwillingness to fight for the throne."

Emurdol only took half a second to figure out how that came to be, **"Did she regain her authority as a candidate to save the Giant from execution?" **

He did not forget that he saw Rom being dragged to the chambers before he blew out of the corridors to look for Meili. Viandegroc had asked for Cadmon the fruit vendor to tell Rom that he and Emurdol will look for Felt in the Castle before they waited for Meili and Rem to reach him in the bazaar. If Rom was to hear it, it was reason enough to break inside.

In other words, Viandegroc might have indirectly sent Rom to his death if he had been executed right then and there if it weren't for Felt.

Even if that was the case, Viandegroc or Sally would take him into custody before any harm was done to the old man. Emurdol wouldn't stand for it, after all. He would have done the same for his beloved child, through hundreds of guards and well-protected walls just to save her.

"Correct. Flawless deduction, Ser Emurdol." The Sword Saint praised with an impressed nod. A _genuine _praise coming from the most powerful human in existence the Necromagus has ever met. It was _unsettling_. "The old man's plea to Lady Felt to save him was quite…disgraceful to her, and she did not appreciate it. It gave her the strength to berate him, to say that meekness and submission is not the rightful way to live, even for people of the slums like him and her."

A smile made its way to Emurdol's face. So the little one actually had _spine_. The Dear Girl's going to have an interesting competition with her.

Reinhardt continued, "Such words earned the approval of many, even Lady Crusch. But it seems as though that was what the old man intended with his words, shamefully begging for his life in order to give Lady Felt the heart to rise up and strive for the Seat of Power."

"Not only that…" Felix followed up, holding up a finger, "…she even said that she's gonna wreck the entire Kingdom from the ground up and built it into something a little more….what do you say here…..uh, little more _easy_, _meow_?"

Emurdol could only huff. He can figure out how that girl thinks, for it partially reflected his own contempt for social hierarchies and unfair structures created by Idiots that impede the meaningful development of humanity.

Feudalism—division according to social class is a slight to the eyes and _cruel_. It may have been a good idea at first, but that was a long time ago. Things have changed. People at the top do _not _care for those below them. There may be benevolent nobles who do but their existence is rare, and Felt is under the mindset that _none _are around. That's why she's going to destroy the Kingdom, for the sake of getting rid of this toxic system.

Yet another person for Emurdol to root for besides the Crusch woman.

"Now, with Lady Felt's willing and official participations, the Royal Selection can finally begin in its earnest."

"You're gonna be like the stand-in for a knight to Lady Emilia, right, Emewdul?" Felix asked, a cat-like smile crossing his lips. "Good luck to the both of us, eh?"

Solemnly, Emurdol nodded to that. Being vassals to different candidates, they are going to be enemies starting tomorrow. He wondered if it's going to involve warfare at some point, because having the _Sword Saint _of all people, vassal to a _former thief _of all things, as an opponent does not prove to be an exciting prospect.

He sighed, opting to banish such ruminations away for the time being and instead turn his attention to the darling thing in his arms. His skeleton hand moved a side-lock that was going to fall on Meili's face away.

Reinhardt eyed the heartwarming display fondly, asking, "May I know who this little one is? Is she your daughter?"

**"My pride and joy." **And he shows his sentiment by kissing her forehead once again and moving his left hand on her chest to the side of her face, the other going from her head to her waist, embracing her tightly and dearly. The amount of mana he passed on to her at the same time made the contact far more stimulating. Meili let out a hollow but blissful sigh from her little lips in the process, returning his affection by hugging his left forearm very tightly, trying in vain to make it as stimulating as possible without any assistance with her magic.

"She's so precious…." Felix cooed, knelt on the floor and resting his elbow on the seat of the couch next to Emurdol's thigh, his cheek supported by his fist as he gazed at the child's adorable face. Then she noticed the multiple red lines on her little neck, indications of self-harm "…are meowse things on her neck decorations or is she actually hurt?"

Just as he asked and was about to near a glowing finger towards the injuries, the lacerations began closing before his magic did anything, rewinding to a point where they aren't shredded by her fingernails, leaving behind pristine white skin with a hue that could only belong to dead people.

"Huh." The healer lifted an interested eyebrow at the phenomena, "That looked completely different compared to healing magic. Was that mew?"

Emurdol nodded, **"A form of regeneration magic unique to my kin. It may be inferior to healing magic in terms of effectiveness but its utility is very special."**

"Not enough to fix your condition, I take it, _meow_?"

Being the first one to notice it among all the outsiders, and being a healer at that, of course he would bring it up again sooner or later. **"Without the right person to help me, I cannot do anything about the Rot."**

"Well, now's your lucky day, Emewdul!" She held out a glowing finger again, and this time, it's aimed at Emurdol. "Because your dear Feli is gonna be your partner in making your body feel good again~"

A flash of irritation crossed the Necromagus' mind before it was forcefully banished by his will of iron.

And he suddenly felt his body becoming light, refreshed, the stress his body accumulated from his faux-attack and bold speech in the chambers as well as the use of Void Walk to find Meili seeming to no longer exist, as if he was recently awakened from the greatest sleep he ever had in his life.

And it all happened because of Felix's magic gathering to a single point of his index finger.

This time, instead of turning his eyes, Emurdol turned his head to meet the demihuman's amber orbs, **"I remember now. You are dubbed as the greatest Healer of the Kingdom." **He turned to Reinhardt, **"How far does such a claim go?"**

Without much pause or delay, the Sword Saint answered him with all of the facts he knows, "If I were to estimate Felis' affinity of water magic on the scale of 1 to 10, with 10 nearing the level of a god, he would be at that level. No one on the continent is his equal. It stands for a certain reason why he bears the tile of 'Blue', standing at the pinnacle of those who share his magical affinity despite his young age."

All said without the slightest hint of being modest. Emurdol digested his words carefully.

"_Meow_, the title came from all of Feli's fans."

Healing powers nearing that of a god's capability….such a thing would be truly phenomenal. The life-saving potential it carries…..

…this man meets the required standards he have in order to heal his neck and get rid of the decay in his body.

And the dear girl actually called for this person behind his back? The thought of it is driving him to be a lot more obligated to the half-elf, including a kiss on the forehead. **"Has Emilia truly organized for your service?" **Just for the sake of confirmation.

"Yep!" He stood up from his kneeling spot and took a seat beside Emurdol, careful not to make the couch bounce so the child wouldn't be disturbed. "Lucky you, having a girl that cares lots for your wellbeing. Looks like all that self-harm mew did in the chambers isn't without reward."

"Your words changed the people's perception in the chambers towards Lady Emilia, Emurdol." Once again, there was genuine pride in Reinhardt's sky blue eyes, looking at the Necromagus with the most sincere emotion of admiration, "You showed them that Lady Emilia is truly not an existence the world has to fear. Your oration humanized her existence. If that doesn't make you a great vassal, then even I would dare say the world is truly mad to not think so."

It's even more unsettling to hear such words like that to come out of his mouth and have it aimed in Emurdol's direction. **"Coming from you, that is an honor."**

Felix noticed the child on the Death Mage's lap making a slight smile rising on her little lips. He could feel pride emanating from it.

"Who would've thought that insulting your own Meowster would end up doing some good, eh?" He commented playfully, resting his elbows on his knees. "Is that some kinda specialty of yours, Emewdul?"

**"Maybe." **He's a lot more talented in taking people's lives than damaging their pride. As someone who hates a majority of humanity more than he would praise them, scathing words are part of the package.

"Reeaaally?" Felix tilted his head, then turned her eyes to the little one, "Is your kiddie good at them too? Or are you the type of daddy that liked his daughter pure and innocent?" He moved to pat her little white feet resting on Emurdol's bony thigh—

More than a bottle's worth of the healer's mana was sucked out of him upon contact.

He drew his hand back as if he just touched hot water, slightly alarmed, "Okay, what was _that_? It felt like my mana just got sucked out."

Reinhardt turned a questioning eye towards him, "Sucked your mana? You mean Mana Drain? I thought such an ability was something very rare that even the Lord Margrave Mathers couldn't do."

Emurdol was a bit off-put by the lack of disbelief in his tone, as if it wasn't a surprise for _him _to have it. How much of a great individual does Reinhardt see him? Surely, there is a limit to it. **"She's currently deprived of her mana, so I'm having her to feed off of me. At your own risk, you are welcome to give her some of yours." **

"Your dear Feli will pass." Felix raised up his hand. "How about you? Are you gonna be okay with her feeding off of you?"

**"I have enough."** In the greatest of conditions, he would be able to last an entire month fighting, even with the decay in his body. Fighting Pride didn't last as long as a whole five days like Greed did. It took nearly two weeks. Countless Souls despised William's existence to the very core, and being the medium of their rage, it gave him the very edge to end the so-called 'Immortal's' life in that forever battle.

"Then I shall do so, if you will allow me, Emurdol." Reinhardt didn't hesitate, reaching a hand towards Meili's head and rested it gently there. With the rate Meili was going and with her level of skill, 10 seconds is enough to drain an adult to the brink of death. Emurdol watched the Sword Saint's posture, watching for any sign of weakness.

He didn't shift the slightest, holding out for more than a whole _minute_.

And he can see why. The mana in the air is being siphoned, through him, and into his daughter's core.

Sucking out all of the mana in the air—he remembered the Knight doing the same during his first day on this world, where he released a devastating strike that demolished the Loot House.

It brought a thought where if a fighter who relies on mana were to battle with Reinhardt as an ally, their performance would be impeded for the Knight will take _all _of it without meaning to.

After five minutes, the Knight retracted his hand and straightened his posture, not even the slightest sway evident in his form, "That should be satisfactory. I hope she doesn't mind."

**"She appreciates it." **However, Meili didn't open her eyes yet. She still remained in his lap, curled up like a baby and reveling in the warmth.

"If I may ask, has she been here the whole time waiting for you, Emurdol?" Reinhardt asked gently, crossing his arms in a rather polished motion.

**"Not actually. She wasn't supposed to be here at all." **Emurdol put his lips on her white locks, nipping on the silky strands, **"She was left under her favorite maid's care, far away from the Castle. When my neck was twisted, she felt it as if she had suffered the same thing. A form of synesthesia my kind shared with their flesh and blood. Out of concern and panic, she ran all the way here and broken through."**

"Huh. So that explains the noise going on outside earlier." Felix thumbed the window behind him, showing the courtyard where it used to have so many guards searching for a hidden intruder, "Was making her feel that suffering worth going through that performance in the chambers?"

Felix's playful tone sounded hollow.

**"This is our curse, our sufferings will always be shared. Questioning it would be pointless and a waste of breath." **Though the response appeared to be apathetic and cruel, it doesn't mean Emurdol didn't feel guilty. The Contract states only he will be the source of her suffering, but that doesn't mean he will pursue it actively, **"However, it doesn't mean I cannot grieve for it. No father would let his child go through suffering that she did not expect nor withstand."**

A series of emotions crossed Felix's eyes, unreadable but Emurdol was able to figure out that whatever kind of life the healer had as a childhood, it did not happen in an idealistic light. Considering that he's the _only _demihuman among the Royal Knights, his lineage might not have been well-received at some point, especially from his parents. "Yes. They shouldn't."

There's the hint.

At this moment, Emurdol damned every cur who would do harm to their own young.

The door of the waiting room opened and entered Sally, her long bloody hair trailing on the floors behind her as she glided towards the Death Mage. Giving the two Knights present not the slightest heed, she stood before Emurdol and leaned downwards, giving a little kiss to Meili's nose before whispering to his ear.

"The Mace Man is in this world too."

…..

...

Emurdol was very still, far more immobile compared to when he conversed with the two Knights. But the light in his green eyes glowed brighter than before, exhuming the emotion of something in-between exasperation and defeat.

The uniqueness of such an emotion was enough to make Meili open her eyes and look up to her father's frozen visage, still deaf from the curse but noticing all of the implications from the Link and from what she's seeing.

With a clawing gesture close to her right ear, she snapped out of the ethereal silence and allowed herself to hear her own breathing, heartbeat and the sounds of the room before reaching up with the brown hand to grab his nose and pull it down.

While Emurdol was surprised for being forced out of his thoughts and made to look down on his daughter's darling face, Meili reported to him what she got, "It was Zakurah."

Emurdol stared for a moment, still wide-eyed, then sighed, resting his forehead on hers, more as a headrest than a form of intimacy. The information along with the man he thought was evil back in Pandemonium ending up in this world was too much to take in. Meili didn't mind being a head-support, she simply sucked on more mana.

"Our Dear Rem and the Mace Man managed to convince the guards at the gates to be let through and search for the sweetheart…." Sally added, taking her pipe to her lips and taking a deep pull. She continued, the green smoke flowing out in thin trails, "I told them that the situation has been handled and that Meili is now left in your hands. I had to apologize for making them go through all the trouble, do not make me fix your problems for you or do your brother's job…"

Meili quickly got off Emurdol's lap and ran up to her waist, hugging it. The green vapors near Gluttony's body dispersed frantically, keep the dangerous aroma away from the child. Looking down on the little one, her heart-shaped face unchanging as she looked back at the rather leering face, she leaned down and looped her free hand around the wyrmm's rear before lifting her up, at eye level with each other.

Planting a quick but passionate kiss on Sally's full lips and the child's embrace was enough to snap a grown adult's neck. The little legs wrapped around her chest would have shattered existing ribs inside as well. However, the Flesh Golem was able to sense the raw affection Meili carried, the two Souls inside able to revel in it like a waterfall bath.

Besides, Meili never saw Sally's true body in the flesh before. The trouble of coming all the way here was worth it when she felt her father's neck twist.

"Hmm." Sally took another pull from her pipe, returning the embrace of the little body clinging on to her with her left arm. Releasing the vapors and joining her other arm into the embrace, she remarked, "If it's for this little one, then it was worth the trouble…."

Emurdol smiled. If anyone in Pandemonium ever saw Gluttony act like this while she was still alive, they would ultimately be driven insane. No matter who it is, Meili has a natural gift to make even the deceased fall for her.

He rose up from the couch, taking his gauntlets that were placed on the small table and donning them one by one. **"Reinhardt, if you have the time…."**

"Yes?"

**"Take me to some place in this Castle that no one would mind being roughed up."**

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Ten minutes after the accepted request, the five now made it to a place that matched Emurdol's description. The Parade Grounds. The spaciousness of it was perfect for formations, drills, and training. At the center, three people stood on tightly packed soils of sand. One stood primly with his hands at the side, another hopped up and down in preparation, and the last brewed green energy into his armored hands.

Reinhardt smiled ironically, his Royal Knight regalia undressed and leaving him in his black undershirt, "I must admit. I didn't expect you to ask this of me."

**"We would like a change of pace." **Emurdol answered, creating a pair of bone sickles in his hands. Small but viciously-serrated, **"And Meili wants to exercise her abilities on somebody different than her family, to give her a better impression of fighting someone who fights on….professional ground."**

"Papa, do you expect me to even _hit _Mr. Sword Saaaiint?" Meili asked, her glove removed and her brown hand alternating between a claw and a fist, the indescribable amounts of meat and bones stuffed inside shuffling into preparation.

**"No." **Emurdol tested the weight of the small weapons, balancing them on individual index fingers. **"I would not ask you to go that far. I simply want you to perform your best, not your worst."**

'Best', being that she does not show everything she would ever throw to an opponent she will face with her life on the line.

Honestly, Meili isn't sure what's considered the worst or the best. Considering their magic is extremely uncommon in this world, standards for it don't even exist yet. Not even he taught her anything about it. She's only taught to keep everything to a minimum.

She can use skeletons, however. They are the most basic art of necromancy.

"Okay, Papaaa." At her assent, Emurdol was finally done with his minute adjustments and approached her, holding out the new bone sickles by the curving end.

**"One or two?"**

In her training, she's capable of fighting with dual-wielding or with just one in hand. However, considering her opponent is the Sword Saint, burdening both hands would be unhelpful. It's time she has some fun with her right hand against somebody that's not her Uncle or Grandmother.

She wordlessly took the one from his left hand, testing its weight and admiring its wicked appearance, built to bleed than kill. Noting her choice, Emurdol turned the sickle in hand into a serrated scimitar and threw it to Reinhardt as if it was a big knife, aiming directly for his skull. And the Sword Saint caught it by the handle, his movements exhuming great casualness that it almost looked forgettable.

Emurdol approached the Knight, leaning his head closer even though he cannot whisper, **"If it's not too much to ask, do not return an attack. Only defend or evade, and you can strike back against her minions if they exceed the number of 10. Can you manage that?"**

"If you do not mind having me, then I shall do so."

His response was clever, he admitted being capable of meeting the requirements without a shred of doubt and yet came off as courteously humble. Just _what _is the Sword Saint and his power?

**"Can I add one more demand?"**

"What is it?" He didn't even question it.

**"Try and have my daughter improve her performance to her best potential. Allow her to leave this mock battle stronger than before. How you do so shall be up to you."**

"Ah, wanting the best and expecting _only_ the best from her, aren't you?" Reinhardt asked.

Emurdol nodded immediately, **"Any parent would do the same. If she were to surpass me one day, it will be the day I will call myself the proudest man on existence."**

Reinhardt smiled a handsome admiring smile, "Your love for family astounds me, Ser Emurdol. Very well, I promise not to disappoint."

They shook hands and Emurdol walked back to the space behind Meili, crossing his arms behind his back. The former leaned her upper body forward, feet planted firmly against the ground, her left hand holding the sickle while her right began growing a spike from its palm, and her hair began to float against unseen currents.

With a rather casual stance, he held his barbed blade close and pointed to the side, arm fully extended instead of bent in preparation, "Now, shall we begin, Miss Meili?"

"When you are ready, Mr. Sword Saaaiiint." Meili's eyes glowed bright in excitement, her smile turning vicious and lined with pointy teeth.

"From the line of Sword Saints, Reinhardt van Astrea."

Extending one's name to an opponent is the notion of respect between warriors, acknowledging the other as an equal. The gesture touched Meili's heart, her smile turning bright for the briefest of moments as she returned the courtesy.

"I am Emurdol Viandegroc's cutest and most beloved daughter, soon to become the greatest Priestess of the Serpent in the world, Meili Sinnuldel."

Formalities now over with, the wyrmm instantly became a black blur as she flew straight towards the standing Sword Saint's form.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"You look rather proud there, even though Little Meili's not making any progress in hitting Reinhardt." Stood from the edge of the parade grounds, Felix asked to the proud Aunt beside him, a dozen minutes having passed after the fight began.

As someone who has known the Sword Saint, it didn't surprise him that the former was never hit once, not even a bit of dust smudging against his undershirt, but the child's performance admittedly drew shock from any spectator. For one thing, the little girl's right hand turned into a fleshly _whip _with a spike at the end.

The long appendage whirled and snapped against the air and sandy soil, practically reshaping the ground with every lash. The way it was so skillfully handled made it more impressive, and equally dreading to think of the consequence of being the receiving the end of its fury.

"My dear Sweetheart is enjoying herself." Sweet as honey and coated with mother-like quality that rarely ever arrived even within the Necromagus family, Sally replied to Felix with a proud tone, "Her mock fights against me and him has been nothing but practice. Being able to show off her expertise to her dear Aunt and her father is something she's been wanting to do, and I aim to drink every effort and failure she makes in this very moment….."

"Wow." Felix marveled at their close-knit bond, leaning slightly back in mock awe before he righted himself, "You're all quite the happy family, mew three are. Who's the lucky wife?"

Inwardly, Sally laughed. It was Emurdol who should be considered lucky to find someone as precious and loving as Rem.

"A sweet little maid named Rem, whose affections he and Meili have competed over endlessly….." When such competitions ensues, the Souls end up having endless amounts of entertainment. Such things was where Mother's growing fondness for the Demon girl had come from, for she loved watching her son revel in the little things. It made him more _human_.

"A _maid_? A simple _maid_? Really?" Felix asked in disbelief, "I thought she'd be a broody white haired person like them, _meow_."

"Even for his kind, love between a man and a woman Underground is rather rare." Taking from Emurdol and Viandegroc's knowledge, Gluttony replied to the healer, "Union between his kind and a human from the Above-World is a lot more common, though it takes the most understanding of individuals to even consider a long-lasting relationship with one….."

Such people who would even love a Priest or Priestess of the Serpent deserve unending praise for such a venture. It means entering a life of rejection and exile, sharing the risks and burdens of their Necromagus partner.

It isn't without reward, of course. And Rem will know them one by one. Lacking the risks that accompany it in Pandemonium, the maid is better off compared to those in Emurdol's world.

"I gotta ask…you're not….._alive_, are you?" Felix hazarded, his playful tone nonexistent.

Not even turning her head and continuing to watch the fight without a single eye-blink, Sally replied, "Being the greatest healer that you are, I wonder why it took you this long to address it…"

"Just needed a bit of an opportunity to ask."

"Hmm." Sally lifted up her pipe, bringing it close to her lips but not taking an inhale from the vapors, "Now that you know, what next….?"

"From what hole did he pull you out of?" Felix's tone was emotionless, "You are supposed to be asleep."

A mouth appeared on the back of the Flesh Golem's free hand, expressing a sneer. The demihuman didn't notice it, "Apparently, when he took my life, I was not worth the damnation I deserved…."

"Damnation?"

"I raped, murdered and eaten people when I was alive, children included. Not in that order, just so you know…." Sally made herself even more grotesque by licking her lips salaciously, making no effort to hide how much of a scum she was that deserved her grisly and violent death in the cave, "Does someone like that deserve a simple death? That would be merciful, don't you think…..?"

The contempt wasn't hidden in Felix's visage, but his body language didn't change from the usual. The steel in his amber eyes was enough to make the point clear that they can never be friends. "How did Emewdol bring you back to life? Was it the **Sacrament of the Immortal King**?"

"Simple. By imprisoning my Soul….." Sally's body was completely still that it was completely unnatural to any normal eye. The only movement found were the lips and nothing else. The cheeks were completely frozen too. "Witchbeast flesh can actually recreate my body to the last fabric…."

Even more fiery emotions flashed across his eyes, and something else that looked back at a certain past of his. From within the vessel, Viandegroc caught the implications, especially when the demihuman's reactions are far too reserved for somebody looking at a violation of the natural laws of the world; where the dead didn't stay dead. "And Lady Emilia has _him _as one of her followers…."

"Hold back your self-righteousness and know that the boy only imprisons the Souls of the worst of the worst." This time, Sally stopped maintaining the glamour and released the Demon of Gluttony from her flesh. Living hair, black scleras, bulging veins, split cheeks, and a sharp set of needle-like teeth. Slit pupils of dark blue now finally turned to look Felix in the eye, no longer speaking in her seductive voice, "You would not like the things I've done to the people I've killed. You would like it even less of the things the _others_ have done compared to me."

In just a split second, the Demon was gone, and the beautiful woman of the greatest of allure took its place, finally taking a pull from her pipe and letting out a cloud, shaping it into a grinning skull before it got blown away by the shockwave of a giant ball of hardened flesh crashing against the ground, where the Sword Saint's position formerly was.

"If it makes you feel any better, the boy is a fundamentally good man, and he became better ever since his daughter and the woman who loves him came into his life." She looked at the entrance of the parade grounds, where other Royal Knights were coming in, interested in spectating the battle the great Sword Saint was involved in. "His methods of handling scum like me are simply…..unorthodox….."

As she moved to get away from Felix's space, a few parts of the sandy ground near the battling apprentice mage and knight exploded, skeletal hands rising out and clawing at the soil, pulling out their skeletal forms from the soil, wielding weapons of sharpened and expanded bone.

The shock was shared among all of the gathering knights, and the most verbal was none other than Felix himself, "What the!?"

A cruel smile crossed Gluttony's face, even though such a motion was unneeded, telling of the things to come in this political war. "Expect more to come, dear…."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Spectators, comprising of only the guards and Royal Knights, looked on with either a pitying look or a gaze of awe.

They individually knew that it is futile and hopeless to face the Sword Saint and expect to win or even land a hit, so they had sympathized the vexation the wyrmm was feeling for every effort that failed to make results.

Some others, however, were far more taken in by the child's power. A never-before-seen form of magic, the creation of bones and the shifting of flesh; above-average physical performance and form coming from a cute little girl; and the creation of autonomous minions that moved according to her will.

By her appearance and her powers alone, they can already tell that she was related to the man that turned the chambers into a zone of horrors, the latter which walked on the sandy soil with multiple spider legs made of black bone. They marveled over the sort of allies and companions the half-elf candidate have in her league.

Blocking an axe, a sword, and a halberd at the same time, Reinhardt didn't budge the slightest from the combined effort of three skeletons and quickly swatted the ivory weapons off before dashing backwards, evading the spiraling bone drill that was about to nail him from above.

In his dodge, he walked into Meili's clawing distance, her brown hand sporting a giant claw about to impale him in the back. The Sword Saint cleanly jumped over it, somersaulted over her form and landed right behind her in the same momentum as his dash.

With a sharp twist, Meili swatted her giant claw to his direction, the 2 foot long talons flinging off her grasp and darting towards Reinhardt's tall form. The projectiles suddenly veered away from him for no reason, and the latter jumped a few meters upwards, escaping impalement from a bone spike that came out of the ground beneath him before he stood on the point with one foot.

Frustrated, Meili stomped the floor, deforming the sandy soil and the 4 skeletons behind her ran like madmen towards the Sword Saint, leaping towards Reinhardt with silent roars and weapons reared back.

They suddenly exploded before their weapons even met him, including the spike Reinhardt stood on, shrapnel and fragments flying at dangerous speeds, guaranteed to brutalize an entire body to pieces.

Except, there was no body to be found. Not even the slightest trace or scent of blood.

Reinhardt was simply there, stood at a few meters away from the blast zone, as if he was never where he should be seconds ago. No trace of damage on his form, his undershirt showing no visible shred, cut or even dirt.

This time, Meili stopped being composed. Her frustration reached its peak and her sneer became feral, colored by her rage. With blurring speeds as she dashed towards him, she swung her sickle at Reinhardt's face, only for it to be parried aside. Her clawed right hand swung for his knees, and the Knight smoothly back-stepped. Dozens of low strikes followed, courtesy of the height difference between the two, each swing flying in speeds that would escape the eye, and not a single one came close to even touching the Sword Saint.

"**GGRRRRRRR!‼**" The wyrmm's growl was shrill and vicious, and she threw the sickle straight at Reinhardt's face despite their close proximity, and it exploded. But not in his mug, for he caught the weapon and threw it away before he received the punishment, suffering nothing.

Another shrill growl and her little form suddenly exhumed noxious gas from her pores, then suddenly turned herself into inky-black Shrouds. Both clouds assaulted the Knight's form, smothering his face and a black wavy knife suddenly materializing towards his eye.

Reinhardt showed no discomfort nor pain from breathing in the toxins that would have killed a Guiltylowe instantly, and he swatted the kris aside as if he saw it coming. Fleshy appendages suddenly appeared from the cloud, each ending in wicked spikes, and he smoothly redirected or evaded every jab or swipe that came.

And he suddenly jumped to the air, escaping the worst as the _entire_ parade grounds became littered with countless spikes of ivory that jutted out of the ground in an instant, turning the area into a bone graveyard that left every spectator gaping in shock, save Meili's family.

The wyrmm materialized on the hazardous soil, balanced on a diagonally-pointing spike and looking up to a descending Sword Saint, watching with a baleful green glare as he landed like a feather atop a single spike.

Her breaking point reached, Meili _screamed_. But her sanity is still intact, as instead of causing every spike in the vicinity to explode and potentially injure the spectators, she turned her arm into a visceral ball covered in spikes, extending from her wrist and swung it downwards to Reinhardt's form, not unlike Rem's flail.

The Knight dodged the strike by jumping away, his former position on the spikes crumbling into pieces, and the fragments suddenly flew to Reinhardt's direction the sooner they were in the air.

Once again, the projectiles veered away from Reinhardt as if they _actively _don't want to.

Meili didn't relent, swinging her flail of visceral make in dangerous angles and breaking every piece of ivory around her, and every shard of shattered bone never got subjected to conventional laws of gravity, not a single one hitting the ground. Instead, they flew straight towards Reinhardt like a horizontal rain of shrapnel death.

And the Knight simply stood there, untouched and avoided like a plague, the sharp fragments peppering the ground behind him and turning the sandy soil into a patch of sharp rocks.

Her hair afloat and swaying from unseen strong waves, eyes blazing with the green fires of her wrath that they nearly blotted out her face with their near-blinding illumination, she turned her brown hand back to normal before pulling out the rattling wand from her belt and gestured with her free left hand, pulling something from the ground.

The intact pillars of spikes scattered from the far areas of the parade grounds flew, breaking off from the stem and gathering to a single point in front of her, forming a symmetrical mass that nearly resembled a hulking humanoid.

And the assumed shape quickly became complete, comprised of every piece of bone that had ever existed in the area, from the biggest block to the smallest chip, and it was artfully and skillfully meshed together, with a few adjustments of melted bone and reformation, creating the first ever Golem Meili has ever made not more than a few days ago.

And she called her first creation Handy Handsome Harry. A Bone Golem with four arms and a bulky upper body, fully capable of reshaping itself the same way a Flesh Golem would.

The spectating Knights and guards gaped at the towering construct, standing as high as twelve feet tall, its comically-small skull without a jaw for a head fixed to the center of its mountainous shoulders, and its giant right hand reared back—its comparatively small left suddenly shot out a long pike as long as its forearm from its palm, flying straight towards Reinhardt.

When the Knight simply leaned his head sideways to dodge, the right hand finally swung downwards on his form, the joint at the shoulder making an audible crack. The impact was so great it shook the ground and created a practical sandstorm that blew out in all directions, forcing the spectators to look away and shield their eyes.

The clawed hand and forearm completely broken, big in size but matching the same brittleness as the parts that comprised it, Meili made the broken pieces float from the sand, reshaping into pointy spears and they darted towards the Knight that stood beside her, hidden in the cloud of dust. Just as they expectedly diverted from their intended target, a giant bone blade pierced through the veil of dirt from the side and nearly impaled Reinhardt in the chest, his form curling backwards as he jumped away from it, the point of the ivory nearly touching the fabric of his undershirt.

Transferring her wand to her left hand, she threw her brown one upwards, morphing into a fleshy whip once again, and lashed it side to side to Reinhardt's direction, kicking up even more dust, hoping to hit the Sword Saint's body and feel the vibrations of the impact against his flesh roll all the way to her shoulder. No such luck.

Handy Handsome Harry barreled forward, shaking the ground with its uneven gait, leaving behind more of its broken overexerted parts, and swinging the giant sword that protruded from the third arm on its back, spinning its bulky form around before it disappeared into the cloud of dust.

She shot the spiky end of her whip straight to Reinhardt's form through the veil of dust, and she felt only the soil being pierced from the vibration. As the dust around her cleared, she let herself fly forward, pulled towards her anchor point and she retracted the length back to herself before turning herself into a Shroud again. Her formless self dispersing upon hitting the ground, she streaked across the soil and a giant fleshless hand ending in claws solidified from the darkness, reaching for the Sword Saint's back while he was dodging the strikes from the progressively shrinking Golem.

As if she had already been seen through, Reinhardt dashed sideways, escaping being cornered, and the hand _grew _another arm from the forearm, extending and reaching for the Knight's face. Evading her grasp again, the Shroud streaked to the air above him like a low-hanging black cloud, the visceral appendages sinking back inside, and _even more _shot out beneath it. Scythes, pikes, blades, claws, barbed feelers—every manner of murder in fleshly form struck for the Knight's blood, aiming to shed it out of his body.

Bones joined the onslaught, taking similar designs of harm and murder, more rigid than flesh but no less dreading in the potential injuries. They swiped, jabbed, sliced, impaled, grabbed, scratched, crushed; they worked like a well-oiled machine, never bumping into one another and each one executing a strike seamlessly through the flurry. Flesh and bone, common implements for every Priest or Priestess of the Serpent, working as one under a wyrmm's command, a lesser class of the profession.

And not a single one landed a single _touch_. With only a curving serrated sword made out of bone in his hand, Reinhardt blocked, parried, redirected, evaded, and predicted _every single attack_. Despite the pace the Shroud was going that would have overwhelmed even a veteran soldier, he was able to catch up to it without any sort of effort or trouble. His clothing, his hair, and even his face, they never suffered any change. No crease, no damage, and no smudge of dust whatsoever.

And when Meili's body could no longer withstand the strain of maintaining her ethereal form after a whole minute, the appendages of ivory and viscera slinked back into the Shroud and she became material again, her pale form dressed in jet black parallel to the ground before being subjected to gravity.

Reinhardt stuck his bone sword to the ground and casually leapt up, catching her form in his arms before landing like a feather to the sandy soil as the child looked like she was about to pass out, eyes droopy and almost unable to move another part of her body, including her head.

"Shall we stop this play-fight for now, Miss Meili?" He kindly and politely asked, knelt on one knee to the ground and ready to set her down to her feet if she wishes.

Her green eyes glowing dully turned to his oceanic orbs of blue, and the crack between her eyelids slowly widened, the impression changing from droopy to fully awake, and the fire in her pupils lit up.

A _guttural _voice answered his question.

"**NO!**"

Without him expecting to happen due to it not being considered an _attack _by the child, more than half of his mana was sucked out in one pull. It wasn't enough to stagger the knight but it was clear that the fight isn't over. Meili opened her mouth wide, showing him the inside of it, presenting a red pit lined with pure white teeth.

And a giant snake fang _shot _out of her gullet, shredding through the small opening and sending blood flying, straight to Reinhardt's left eye.

The Knight smoothly leaned back, the darting bone inches away from his skin, and dashed away from her before any of the droplets and spurts of her life blood touched him, leaving her form in the air for a split second before it was subjected to gravity.

Her spine hit the ground, and her being dispersed into a dark cloud once more as soon as contact was met before materializing back in an instant. Then her form _exploded _with necromantic power, far more larger than what she had exhumed earlier, coating her body with an immolating aura of green, and she _screamed_, a shrill but _grisly_ howl piercing into any ear that listened and forced the spectators to cover their ears or cry out in pain.

Eyes blazing, hair flying wildly against the intensity of her growing might, the fabric of Reality _split_ open right in front of her, and a Wraith screamed out as it escaped the Spirit Realm, straining against the manacles Meili had on it as it tried to charge towards the Sword Saint in its sights. Her face began suffering red lines, cuts and lacerations suddenly appearing on her arms under her sleeves and her bare legs, and they _bled_. The Wraith is rebelling against her hold, and every lick of pain each injury it gave her was so agonizing it amplified the magnitude of her roars.

Closing her blood-soaked mouth, but her shrieks continuing to ensue behind her gritting sharp teeth, red liquid spilling and flying from her lips, she loosened her grip on the manacles and—

Both her wrists were smacked downwards by a metallic arm and claw, and her hold was lost as well as her screams, the Wraith _bolting _towards the Sword Saint as if it had an indescribable grudge against his very life, screaming a horrific howl as its skull-like form gaped its mouth, preparing to rip his body to pieces.

And another set of restraints caught its being before it ever touched the Knight, a cage of green vapors, and it only had a moment to gawk before it was shoved back to the Spirit Realm, once again denied a chance to discharge vengeance.

The parade grounds were silent.

No Knight nor guard made a noise as the screaming and roaring disappeared from the air, taking a moment to acknowledge the change and slowly lower their hands from their ears. They took in the sights once again: the sandy soil was deformed and displaced, littered with pieces of discarded and shattered pieces of bones, the sidelines were coated in a fine layer of dirt, the blood-haired woman and the Pale Man was suddenly beside the little mage, and the Sword Saint's composure was finally broken, even if slightly.

Reinhardt van Astrea was _stunned_ by what nearly came at him.

And the silence was finally broken, when Emurdol jabbed a clawed finger of steel towards Meili's forehead, hard enough to push her flat on her rear to the ground and she grunted in pain, causing her open wounds to send spikes of pain on her mind.

**"You let your anger get the best of you…" **With a firm and unmerciful tone lacing the eldritch voice inside her head, she was receiving her just desserts, **"….and you did something you weren't trained for. What were you _thinking_? Hm?"**

Her legs sported many bleeding lacerations and cuts, their pattern bringing no indication as to what physical object could have caused it. The same could be said to her arms inside her sleeves and her face, dripping blood on the colorless fabric of her clothes and on the sandy soil. The results of her recklessness were written all over her body.

**"I only told you to bring out your _best_. Why the hell did you become inclined to recklessness? Turning the parade grounds into a graveyard of bone spikes, straining your body with Void Walk, releasing a Wraith and letting yourself get cut up—just _why_ did you do that? _Why_ were you pushing yourself? This was merely an exercise, and you lost your _composure_. What did you think you were doing? This _wasn't_ a competition, Meili! No one was supposed to win or lose!"**

Meili was silent, still as a stone, her head hanging low, her chin about to touch her chest, her silver hair spilling over her face and touching her lap, hiding her face from him.

**"Do not be silent and give me an answer!" **His right stilt stabbed the sandy soil, causing a small cloud to erupt from it. **"What happened, Meili?"**

Sally dispassionately watched from the side, eyes needlessly looking down on the girl.

"….I….I just…." Her response was cracked, weak, wet, and soaked in tears. No one would be able to hear it, even up close, but Emurdol's hearing allowed him to hear every bit of it. "….just once…..I wanted to….hit him…..I wanted to show….."

Emurdol's impassive face remain unchanged. **"Show what?"**

"…..that I was strong…that I could be like you…I wanted to impress you….that I was…that I was strong….good enough….I thought that if I hit the Sword Saint, the strongest warrior in this Kingdom even _once_, I'll show you that I'm strong just like you wanted…"

He could hear her voice losing its color, becoming clearer but losing traces of the bitter emotions that laced it, falling under the influence of Emotion Suppression in order to spare herself from the shame and humiliation.

The attempt to escape from reality itself indicated how hard she took the failure of succeeding this personal mission she took on herself.

"….I failed…failed…_failed_…"

He could see more red drips fall from her face, hidden behind the curtain of white locks, and he was certain they didn't come from the open cuts on her cheeks or the new wound on the forehead he gave her. She locked away her grief, protecting herself from the pain with her heartlessness, but it did nothing to hide her self-loathing.

All of her training and efforts, everything she learned and acquired by her own power—_all _that she had and earned under him, utilized to the limit in this exercise, to show him how much she paid attention to his lectures and so diligently practiced every bit of knowledge she had, so _easily _outdone and defeated by a man who _never_ fought back and dodged or blocked _every _strike she threw at him. Her curses never worked. Her poisons did nothing. Her original techniques failed. And her last ditch effort only drew the ire of her father. Even if she knew she was never going to acquire a decent result, she wanted at least _one _hit to land on the Strongest Warrior of the Kingdom of Lugnica and she would be happy. And she _never _got it.

But more than anything else, she was trying to make Emurdol proud. He was always proud of her, no matter what she does, but she wanted something even more credible in her name for such feelings to be based on, and she _failed_.

The stern chill in his heart didn't stay for long as the implications reached his awareness, feeling only even more pride and love for his child grow. The thought behind her actions touched his heart, and her misconduct lost its relevance in the face of it.

Gently, Sally knelt down and wiped Meili's wet face with her sleeve before slotting one arm under her knees and one behind her back, lifting her up, bringing her to Emurdol as she reached forward and wrapped her little arms around his neck, burying her eyes into his bone-inlaid shoulder.

As the Flesh Golem patted the dust off her body and her vapors getting rid of the dust accumulated from her open wounds, the cuts and lacerations slowly closed under the influence of Reconstruction, her nearly-depleted mana core slowly being refilled with Emurdol's own as he held her.

**"A Fang shot from the _mouth..._not even _I _would have thought of that. Clever work, An'k." **A useful trick in case one is fully stripped of all arms and available stocks of bone.

There was no sign of acknowledgement to the praise he gave.

"I hate to interrupt a family moment that no one should intrude on, but I believe she dropped this." Reinhardt kindly interjected with a soft voice, holding a small black glove in his hand, "I managed to recover it as it fell from her pocket before one of her spells affected the entire area."

Sally nodded her thanks, speaking in a solemn tone that wasn't like her, "That is most kind of you, Ser Reinhardt, but it is better that you return it to the owner yourself."

Emurdol promptly turned his back on the Knight, where Meili could properly look at him if she looked up from her father's shoulder.

Reinhardt stepped up, and her soft voice became even softer as she called her name, "Miss Meili…."

She subtly raised her head up and only one eye peaked through the gaps of silver hair, a dull green orb staring back at him, blood-soaked and free of emotions.

"I believe this is yours." He held out the glove to her, free of dirt and wrinkles after giving it a single brush of his thumb, "If you would allow me, I can put it back on your hand for you."

Her response was to lightly raise her brown hand, fingertips still pointing at the ground, the rest of her arm remaining slack over her father's shoulder, but it was clear that he gained her permission, so he carefully slotted her little hand into the glove, with every bit of his movements befitting a knight and a gentleman.

She gave his fingers a little squeeze before her consciousness blacked out, lost to sleep.

Emurdol turned around, facing Reinhardt without emotion in his dull green eyes. The Knight bowed apologetically, sincere regret lacing his tone, "I am deeply sorry, Emurdol. My conduct must have provoked such action and emotion from your daughter. I have done what you have demanded, to ensure that she develops her skills throughout the entire fight, but I failed to put her feelings into consideration."

Emurdol lightly shook his head, **"You have done what you are asked of, and that is all I cared about, Reinhardt." **This time, he stopped with the formalities, discarding the honorific of 'Ser', **"Allow her to learn from this. It's part of her growth." **And he inclined his head in gratitude, **"Thank you for indulging us."**

"I pass my thanks as well….." Sally added, crossing her arms underneath her large bosom underneath her baggy robes while her hand held her pipe classily, giving the Knight a rather flirtatious gaze with her dark blue orbs, "The aftermath allowed us to realize how far the sweetheart went for her father…."

"Anything to help a friend." Reinhardt smiled to her, "And any friend of Emurdol's is a friend of mine as well."

Just this once, Emurdol didn't scoff at his kindness, stepping up to him and saying, **"Is there somewhere that I can lay her down to sleep? It will be my very last demand."**

With Reinhardt's ever-willing compliance, the four walked off to the exit, the Sword Saint's footsteps seeming to reform the warped soil they walked on back to a smooth surface without even meaning to, and the rest of the Royal Knights that had spectated everything since their arrival exited the premise as well without making too much noise, allowing the family—especially the child her peaceful silence, for they knew how embittering it is to fall to the Knight of Knights despite investing everything in your power to make a positive result.

The aftermath of this simple exercise showed them that even though it wasn't him that participated, even if slightly, it left an assurance that despite the kind of power Emurdol Viandegroc or his kin had that could annihilate an entire army as Lord Roswaal had boasted it to be, it did not make them untouchable. They were only _human_. They are still entities who could be defeated, especially under the Sword Saint's hand who didn't even return an attack _once_. And that brought great ease to the minds of those who worry over the feared half-elf candidate having such persons with her.

Whether Emurdol and Sally actually intended for this result in the first place or not was another matter entirely.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Emurdol opened his eyes once again, not fully, leaving his eyelids covering the upper half of it as he looked down on the topless child cuddling his bone covered left leg while she slept, his left hand resting atop her silver head and beginning to stroke the silky locks with his thumb.

Being the only one sitting up while asleep on one of the borrowed guest quarters of the Castle that Reinhardt had led him to, his body naturally got stiffer than he liked. He flexed his neck and felt a loud crackle emanate from it before yawning.

Then he turned to look at the person that had been sitting right beside the bed on a chair, looking like she was about to fall asleep herself until she noticed him move. He nodded to her, **"Emilia. Did your meeting conclude?"**

The half-elf nodded in confirmation. Her tone was a little more subdued than usual, "Yes. They told me about the fine details about how the Royal Selection will go, and when we were finished, I came to check up on you."

He looked down on his daughter, his skeleton hand still holding her left as he continued to feed her mana, even while sleeping, before turning back to the half-elf, **"Did you hear about what Meili did earlier?"**

"Mm." She nodded, "She and Reinhardt did a mock-battle. He said that she went too far and ended up crying in the end."

**"Hmm…."** He stroked Meili's hair with his left, **"She simply wanted to impress me, by landing just one hit on Reinhardt. She couldn't do it and was frustrated to tears."**

Emilia did a little chuckle, a smile playing across her lips as she leaned forward and reached for Meili's left hand, Emurdol's own moving away so she could do so. She interlocked fingers with the wyrmm, not minding her own mana being drained from the contact as her thumb brushed across the squishy pale flesh comfortingly.

She didn't care about why the girl was naked in her sleep. It's been established before that skin to skin contact is what made the sharing of mana rather stimulating, and having more skin exposed means sharing a more refreshing sensation and exchanging a bigger amount of energy with one's partner. That, and her black long-sleeved shirt was reeking of blood, which Viandegroc took to wash somewhere. Emilia shared a session with Meili once, and she actually enjoyed it, wanting to do it again, though Puck quickly forbade her from doing it again for some reason.

Then she parted the contact and leaned back, her mien and tone becoming grim, "Emurdol, can we talk? I have questions. Lots of them."

**"Go ahead."**

A troubled look shot across her eyes, hesitating to say out, and after a few seconds, she finally let it out, "Did you once….tried to destroy the world?"

….

…...

…...….

"Before you turned into that monster in the chambers, memories suddenly came rushing back to my head, as if I had forgotten them."

….

….….

"I didn't want to believe it…..but they were too real to be a dream or a fake….I still remember them as if it was merely a week ago." Amethyst eyes looked deeply into orbs of green that glowed dully. "Is really true? What Roswaal had said that you forced the mana of the world towards the mansion?"

**"Yes."**

She was taken aback by how nonchalant the response was. "Wh—"

**"Because what happened during the Witchbeast Incident has something even more critical in hindsight." **He said that he will tell her the truth soon, he didn't expect that to be now of all times, especially when she's now carrying even bigger responsibilities as the candidate to the Seat of Power. **"To you, Emilia, _why_ did you think I ran to the Earlham Village when it happened?"**

She was taken aback by the hardened tone the voice in her head had become, "Be-because you found out something was wrong and so you went to deal with it?"

Pursing his lips, the creases on his forehead now becoming prominent by the growing scowl, he shook his head, **"I was running away."**

She gasped, her hand subconsciously reaching to her mouth. Her lips quivered, and her eyes became troubled, "Why?"

**"Rem and I….." **His eyes glowed balefully, **"She thought I was one of the people that destroyed her village and I did not take that behavior from her well, _especially _when I had done everything I could to stop the suspicions that keep coming towards my kind before I even met her. I have been civil the entire time in the mansion, and she did not reciprocate my feelings. Behind her façade, she looked at me like I was an enemy."**

The bones on his skeleton hand crackled, even though there was no visible movement from it.

**"That was why I left. If I had stayed, she will reach her breaking point and attack me, and I _will _fight back. I _will_ kill her if she had."**

"And you left…." Emilia's voice was hollow, but he did not try to look at her face, "….for her sakes?"

**"Yes." **The bitterness in his reply was so palpable that Emilia felt it like it was her own, **"Along the way, I found the Earlham Village in a state of emergency. To return your kindness, I took it upon myself to protect your name and saved the cursed children that were lost in the forest. It would have ended in a good note, where I could have saved my throat from being ripped out."**

He reached up to his neck with his skeleton hand, feeling for the scars that lined it. Then he set the hand down, placing it atop Meili's own, and he continued, **"But Rem followed after me. She refused to believe that I bore no ill will to the mansion and yourself. When I told her my intentions to save the children and immobilized her so she wouldn't follow me for her safety, she _still _didn't listen. She _still_ refuses to trust me, so she followed after me, and got herself cornered by the witchbeasts and the skeletons I left behind to eradicate them."**

A diabolical sneer formed on Emurdol's mouth, oversized teeth jutting out from his jaw and leaving him unable to close his mouth fully. **"When I have saved the children and cured them of their curses, the villagers told me that Rem was still inside. So I ran in….and then…."**

And he pointed at his own neck. That was all Emilia needed to know what happened next.

**"It was her fault. She _made _me go back to save her fucking ass. And it cost me a throat for my efforts."**

He formed his teeth back to normal and slacked his head back against the headrest behind him, closing his eyes as if talking about it was as exhausting as killing Envy again.

**"The next day, when I found out I was cursed, I was willing to let it take my life, just so I could get away from the despair that I felt that day." **

In the silent room, his above-average hearing caught the sound of her fingers curling into a fist on her lap.

**"But then Beatrice told me that Rem ran back into the witchbeast forest to get rid of the witchbeasts that planted those curses on me, as penance for her sins. However, considering how many witchbeasts still remained inside the forest despite my efforts, she took it upon herself to annihilate every witchbeast there even if it kills her. ****And that only made me even angrier than before. So I dispelled the curses on my person and ran into the forest to get her out of there."**

"You can dispel the curse even if they were activated?" She suddenly asked, her tone gone emotionless.

**"Yes."**

"And you are still willing to let it take your life despite that?"

Emurdol's response was colder than ever, **"I _wanted_ to die, Emilia. Rem broke my heart. And she took that away from me by throwing _hers _into the shit instead!"**

His form betrayed nothing of his outburst, completely dissonant in visible sight. He remained immobile in his sit-up position on the bed, his daughter hugging his leg as she slept, and his face was nothing short of tranquil, contrasting the fires inside.

**"Ram and I worked together to get her out of there, and at some point, Viandegroc overtook my body in order to make things quick."**

He didn't realize that he just used Viandegroc's name for the very first time.

**"When Rem and Ram returned to the safety of the village, he remained to finish the job. To eradicate every ulgarm that breathed in that forest. If he was ever to accomplish the job, he would lead us away from the Mathers domain as far as he could take it, to essentially run away."**

Then he sighed, audibly and tiredly, **"I threw my own Soul into the Wand, never to return. I gave Viandegroc my body and handed him the responsibility of _living_. But that only made him lose hope and give up on the task. If it weren't for Roswaal's timely intervention, he would have died to the witchbeast. Viandegroc and my body passed out at that point. That was when Mother ran away and sent me back to the village in a stretcher."**

Then he became very, very still. He was so immobile that he nearly became a part of the furniture's of the room. But the voice in her head continued on, **"Three days after my body had been comatose, Mother took vengeance and poisoned Rem in her sleep."**

Emilia was silent.

**"That was when Viandegroc took my body again and woke up. Ram was the first to discover the news and confronted him about it. Realizing what Mother did, essentially tarnishing my name into a wicked man because of her actions, Viandegroc despaired….and destroyed the world."**

Finally, there was the long-awaited inquiry, "…_Why_?"

**"From what he told me: he wanted to destroy all witnesses and protect my dignity. That included Roswaal, Ram, Rem, Beatrice, the Earlham Villagers, and even _you_. He was going to kill all of you and make everything look like a natural disaster with the calamities he brought. If he had succeeded, he would take my body away from the Mathers Domain for good."**

"Tsk." Emurdol clicked his tongue, the movements of his lips and jaw barely perceptible.

**"Then Puck told me that Rem was still alive. And that renewed my will to live again, just to _save _her. So I took back my body and repaired whatever damage I've done to the world, costing so much of my body to the point of spitting blood." **His head moved, looking down on his daughter, one of the leading causes of those sufferings he went through, **"When I left the mansion and never returned for two whole weeks…."**

Emilia knew the story, being told about it long ago from the child in question, "That was when you found Little Meili and adopted her, taught her and raised her, right?"

He nodded, and he thought of Rem. Her smiling face, her loving gaze, her affectionate touches, their shared intimacy, of kisses and hugs and minor lovemaking behind a closed door. It was still strange to him, how someone he hated to the point of death at first became the person he would have hot feelings for.

**"When I returned during the night, Rem and I finally talked, understanding that we have actually wronged one another the whole time. She believed I was an enemy, and I never properly spoken to her as a person."**

His skeleton hand placed itself on his bare chest, dead-pale skin bare to the air, half-naked just like his daughter, and he felt his heart throb irregularly, bringing a foreign color and warmth to his cheeks as he thought about his beloved maid, **"We have forgiven each other….and we eventually fell in love. Meili grew to love her as well, and Rem reciprocated her feelings."**

Finally, he turned his head to face Emilia, and there was a soft smile that graced her face, the twinkle of warmth sparkling from her amethyst eyes. "That was wonderful, Emurdol. I'm happy that you were able to forgive each other and find love." Then her smile fell, forlorn, "But I'm admittedly upset. Such painful things were happening to you and I didn't even notice, _even _to this day. Why didn't you _tell _me?"

Admittedly, Emurdol felt guilt. He calls himself her friend, and yet he didn't say anything about what happened. Even if he didn't want to burden her, it is right for friends to help each other, and Emilia's no different in regards to what she must do for him, and he denied her the opportunity.

But he had no regrets. **"Because it didn't matter, _and _I didn't want to destroy the dynamic of your growing relationship with Rem. It would have impeded your focus as well."**

Emilia pursed her lips, unable to deny it. If she ever heard about the actual circumstances, how could she have acted in front of Rem? Would she able to maintain a civil relationship with her? Would she able to focus on her studies despite the knowledge of it? She doesn't know.

"…but ever since you came back, Rem was slowly becoming cheerful and happier, and we became even greater friends too, not just as a master and a servant. I think Ram and I are closer than before as well."

Emurdol was greatly happy for having contributed to it, for Emilia needed more friends, especially from those who lived under the same roof as her. So he said, **"Telling you what happened would have ruined that. And now that you know the truth, are you still able to see Rem the same way you always had?"**

"Indubitably." There was no hesitation in her response, "I mean, what's done is done. But what mattered more is that you and Rem made up in the end, and she's a lot happier now thanks to you. My relationship with Rem will not change."

She didn't think about her thoughts of the matter. She thought about others instead, disregarding her own as irrelevant for their sakes. The dear girl's common virtue is showing itself again, and he finally remembered the first incentive why he made himself more inclined to her in the first place.

**"Now, what is next?" **Now Emurdol demanded a change of topic, feeling a rather large mental weight now released from his back. He was glad that he finally told her everything, **"With your meeting over with, what are you going to do?"**

"Tomorrow, Roswaal and I will be heading back to the Mansion. You shall remain here for a while to receive medical attention. Don't worry, I arranged for the healer to meet you tomorrow. Rem will lead you to where you'll be staying for the next couple of days. You can do your other tasks while you're at it. Little Meili, and Uncle or Aunty Sally can stay with you if they liked."

**"Hmph. Your Ladyship is kind." **He held out a skeleton hand to her, and she took it, interlocking fingers with him, **"I'll come back as soon as I can."**

Emilia smiled to him and nodded, the flower petals on her crown bobbing in the motion.

Then, uncertainty. "Emurdol, I have one more question."

**"Which is?"**

"What you said in the chambers, where you would devote your life into protecting me, or siring my children or protecting a settlement that I might make….or the other stuff you said about me, that you think I'm better off not being in the Royal Selection and doing little things instead…." The conflict in her eyes returned, "….were those words true?"

**"I _never _lied, not even once." **Without shame and doubt, he told her, **"And the thoughts I have behind every word I said in that chamber is _without question_. If you had truly lived the simple life and created a possible future for demihuman equality in the Kingdom little by little, I would truly devote my life to protecting it, for it is meaningful to me."**

"But I didn't take that life…."

**"So I will stay with you, and see _what _this decision will lead to. What your ambitions will be, what your goals will be, I will see the end of it."**

"Emurdol…." Her voice became soft, hesitant, and when she looked at him in the eye, she said, "….my reasons to participate….is selfish. I _will _strive for equality of the Kingdom but I have ulterior motives behind it. If I tell you about it, you might get disappointed…."

Since knowing this girl, he had discovered that her views are _pretty _simple. Whatever goal she had that she herself considers 'selfish', it's highly unlikely that it's any of the unsavory sort.

Gently prying his leg from Meili's clutch, he swung his legs over to the side of the bed, the point of his stilts thudding against the floor, and he sat on the bedside, his tall height looking down on the half-elf and said, **"Try me."**

She looked up to him, doubtful, "Are you sure?"

He reached for her other hand and held it, having both of hers in his grasp, and he pressed on, **"Tell me."**

She pursed her lips again, her eyes closing tightly, but as she took a deep breath, her composure returned just enough to answer him, "Remember what I said in the chambers…where I once lived?"

**"The Forest of Elior. The Land of Eternal Frost."**

She nodded, and visible traces of guilt were very clear in her eyes, "The race of elves were frozen there as well, and I….."

_She was the cause of it_. Emurdol already knew, and Viandegroc simply verified it for him when he went to the Frozen Forest itself, to converse with whatever Souls had lingered there. The Flesh Golem didn't simply stay in one place for too long when it comes to gathering information that the Necromagus wanted.

But is the half-elf willing to admit it?

She shook her head, banishing the unpleasant memories that were coming to the surface. She _can't. _

If she expected disappointment from him, he is now. "I am….obligated to them, and I mean to thaw them free. But neither Puck's power nor mine could do anything. Not even Roswaal's too. But he knew something that can actually melt the ice, all he did was tell me about it."

Emurdol remained silent.

"Dragon's Blood."

**"Oh?"**

"The Blood of the Dragon that grants bountiful harvests upon the land and cures the deviant earth. He said it could definitely thaw the forest."

Slight concern rang across Emurdol's mind, the image of a dying dragon wilting on the ground troubling him, but his outward demeanor betrayed nothing, **"And how do you mean to attain it?"**

"Well, the Royalty of Lugnica get a chance to talk to the Dragon when they form the Covenant. And some drops of the Holy Dragon Volcanica's blood have been kept in the palace from back then. If I am Ruler, I want to utilize them…."

_So not premeditated murder._

Emurdol hummed soundlessly, now beginning to understand the whole picture, **"And that is considered selfish to you?"**

"Yeah. Typical, isn't it?" The smile on her face belied anxiety, fearing what he might think of her now that her intentions are laid bare before him. Did she betray his devotion? Did she disappoint him as he expected? He could palpably see those unasked questions rolling across her amethyst eyes.

And he scoffed, damning himself for getting his hopes up in regards to her intelligence, **"I was right. You _are _naïve, and you really _are_ an idiot."**

And he slapped the back of his skeleton hand to her forehead, a sharp sound emanating in the silence of the room.

"Ouch!"

**"You wished to save the elves, and you know how to do so. The necessary means are found in the Castle's vault, and you took the approach that is available, which is to attain a position that can allow you access to it instead of attempting theft or forcing the holders to hand it over to you using Puck. And that's considered _selfish_?" **Emurdol shook his head, holding his face with his skeleton hand while his other arm rested across his abdomen. **"You really are a child."**

Emilia rubbed the red spot on her forehead, pained tears flowing out from her eyes, "…Emurdol…."

He lowered his hand and placed it atop her shoulder, **"Does the goal of equality and saving the Elves make you inferior compared to the other candidates? Do you see yourself lesser compared to the goals they have in mind?"**

Crusch wishes to free the Kingdom from stagnation, Felt wishes to rebuild it—he personally rooted for them.

But Anastasia and Priscilla?

_Nothing _is worth admiring about their ends.

**"_No_. If they had been inferior, I would not have said anything about my vow of support in that chambers. I would have doubted every effort you will ever make in the Royal Selection, because you do _not_ deserve to carry my hopes." **And he raised his hand up before smacking it back down to her shoulder, making her squeak. **"I had my reasons."**

And he moved his hand away, crossing his arms and gazed sharply at her, asking in a very firm tone, **"Tell me, do you remember the kind of life I had?"**

And her head perked up at the question, the shock crossing her features before it slowly melted into a solemn visage. She nodded.

During his first days in the mansion, he told her all about it, detail by detail. Every single person in the Mansion alongside her listened to him as he explained it .

He was a practitioner of the dark arts, hailing from an Order with ingrained ethics and a code of conduct that kept his kind from being like the corrupted maniacs that give them a bad name.

And he suffered for it all the same.

**"Do you remember what I have suffered simply for existing?"**

She didn't answer, for the answer was already clear.

He lived the life of being attacked for no reason, without provocation—his existence was regarded as something that must _end_. All of that suffering because of the social stigma that arrived from narrow-minded bastards that have no heart nor intention to understand him or his people.

He suffered just like her. Even if she had it off easy by never suffering the end of the blade, only bearing the brunt of discrimination and rejection by society, the pain is nigh-equal. She _understood _what he went through.

**"Do you know what I have done about it?"**

He _ended_ it. The prejudice against the Order of the Serpent and those affiliated to their members, _gone for good_. He bled, he suffered, croaked, vomited blood, broke his bones his entire life in Pandemonium ever since he was no longer Underground. He worked to bring light to his people, and he _succeeded_.

Meili knows it. Rem knows it. Emilia _knows _it. They knew he came from the Great Waterfall, and they believe that he has done so much good for his people before he was forced to this world, and regretted nothing.

**"I want you to answer me, Emilia." **Solemn and formal, Emurdol stood tall form the bed and asked the candidate to the Throne, his authority as a Priest taking the stand, **"Do you wish to achieve the same change I have brought for my people? Do you want your fellow half-elves to be free from the ingrained prejudice of the world? Do you want other innocent half-bloods to live easily in this Kingdom that despise them so?"**

Struck rigid from the pressure of his presence, caught completely off-guard by his profession as a _Priest _finally brandishing its sway and power over those beneath him, and she quickly adapted to it, her fire and resolve overpowering her amethyst orbs, she stood up from her chair and answered him, her voice as clear as a bell, "I do."

Then Emurdol gently placed a skeletal fist to his chest, bowing solemnly, **"Then this Priest shall swear to adhere to his words. With all of my might and with all of my spirit, they will carry on your will until the very end, where my life can finally end in Peace."**

Emilia was struck by his sincerity and devotion, and her eyes threatened to draw tears. She remembered the first vow he made to her, and she fell to tears from them. And now, she was about to fall apart because of the unconditional _support _she was given where even his own life was on the line. To earn all of this trust, to be entrusted with all of his hopes, and to bear all of the privileges he carries with his profession….

In all of Emilia's life, only he was the one to do something like this. Him alone. If she were to be presumptuous, Meili would do the same thing as well, as she would follow her Father's decisions anywhere.

"Emurdol…." Emilia, eyes beginning to release a single bead of tear down to her cheeks, asked the one question she gave him once during his first few days in the Mansion, wanting to know if the last answer still held on today, "…why must you go so far for me?"

The Death Mage's response was immediate, leaving no more room for doubts regarding his resolve. He pulled her close, kissed her forehead, the aroma of the Abiding Crown gracing his nose, and embraced her very tightly, as if every bit of emotion he had for her could only be expressed by this much, and he's making sure she notices them.

**"Because I care."**


	21. Mace and Whitesteel

It's completely natural that he would hate the sun shining down on any part of his body, particularly his bare and scarred upper body, including his face. He can last for so many days, even weeks, without sleep, but when he does sleep, he makes _sure_ he sleeps. Anyone who would _dare _wake him up from his dearly beloved _sleep_ will suffer worse than a mana burn.

But now, it's even more precious to him, especially when he wakes up with the woman he loves and the daughter he treasures sleeping by his side on the guest bed of the House of Karsten. If possible, he would love to stay like this for good, feeling that only the three of them exist in the world, thinking about nothing except the moment together, and hoping that it never stops.

And it seems Rem is already awake as well, seeming to have been staring at his sleeping face for quite a while. She had her head lying atop a pillow and looking to the side, her left hand caressing his cheek and his lips with delicate fingers for some time as he slept on his side next to her, her right side occupied by a shirtless Meili, little leg and arm cuddling Rem's petite and nearly-naked body to herself.

She flashed him a cute smile, a sight to see first thing in the morning. "Good morning, Ser Emurdol. It seems we are graced with an ugly morning today."

He huffed in amusement, finding himself falling in love all over again for her consideration. **"I love you, Rem." **

He raised his upper body just slightly to hover over her, his white hair flying upwards to avoid ticking her face, and he took her soft lips to himself, giving her a morning kiss that's about to become routine. This time, Rem didn't hesitate in wrapping her arms around his head to deepen the kiss, letting her tongue meet his own, battling for dominance, especially after their little _session_ last night. It was the first time she has ever done it together with him and Meili.

He never thought that she would _climax _from it. Even his daughter's peak is a lot tamer; a simple shudder and a deep breath.

After an unknown number of minutes, they finally parted their lips. His eyes glowed green in the intimacy and her cheeks went bright red, and it got even more redder when he trailed kisses from her lips, cheek, eye, and to the center of her forehead, the entry of her horn.

And she let out a quivering moan when she felt a trickle of mana flow into her core from his lips, her light blue eyes glazing over from the mind-blanking pleasure. She tried to resist the sensation, but she found out it was much harder to talk straight, "S…Ser Emur—ul! No….not again~ Not so earlyyyy~~"

One last mana-infused peck to her forehead, he then hovered his face over her again with love-filled eyes, **"I won't listen." **The voice in her head was so amorous and _hungry _that she knew instantly that there was no persuading him otherwise. **"And I don't feel like letting you leave this bed."**

And he went for her weakest spot, below her ear.

She barely covered her mouth from letting out a rather loud moan, her glowing horn sprouting out of her forehead. He had her free hand in his own, passing mana through there as well, relaxing her arm muscles and adding to the stimulations of both soothing and nigh-orgasmic.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations, her white petite body trembling under the peppering of kisses that Emurdol's _warm _lips relentlessly brought down, adding that with her coat muffled moans, her reactions is enticing her lover to do _more _to her, to try every nook and cranny of her body and see what kind of cute response he would get out of it.

Her tear-soaked eyes shot open when she felt a weight pressure down on her abdomen, bringing attention to a now-awake Meili straddling her, blushing hotly and breathing heavily, olive green eyes glowing sensually as both her _warm _hands gently grabbed on to her bountiful breasts, her nipples hidden under her small palms, draining her mana from them and causing the taken energy to seep out of her tiny form, which is drained back to Rem with her horn. "You're so beautiful, Remiiii…"

Draining, grinding, kissing, holding, _squeezing_—multiple sensations at once, amplified by the mana she was given, and Rem was about to lose it. Her eyes rolled to the top of her head, the hand covering her mouth slowly losing its strength and allowing her sweet moans to be heard with more clarity, reaching the two's ears and giving them the incentive to do _even more_, wanting to hear it again and again until their nigh-bottomless satisfaction is met.

For a moment, Emurdol halted his rain of affections on her neck and collarbone, relieving her of a certain level of intensity, once again hovering his face over her panting and overwhelmed mien, looking down with unfathomable amounts of love found in his eyes, messages of unlimited fondness and desire sent to her through a simple gaze. Amidst all of these sensations that was becoming laced with warmth and not just lust, her heart burned with every happiness in the world and she experienced euphoria once again.

She was loved and cherished. That's it. A simple fact, something that people experience in a certain point of their life, and like a child, she treated it like it was the greatest blessing in the world she ever received, especially when it came from him, including his daughter. Meili carried the same emotion in her eyes as well amidst the luscious hunger—mature yet pure feelings of affection reserved for a sister, mother, and lover, condensed into a single clump of sentiment that no one can understand, uniquely belonging to her and her alone, and generously given to Rem without price.

Emurdol slowly leaned in, his lips about to meet hers again. Meili reversed her actions, passing her favorite maid her own mana, sending strange but sensually stimulating sensations. Rem's free right hand interlocked fingers with the wyrmm's own, and she awaited the Necromagus' kiss with very little patience, her eyes slowly closing, submitting herself to another climax just like the one she experienced last night, her body tingling, her nether regions quivering—

It _stopped_.

Feelings of affection and lust, sensations of surging mana, and the warmth of her beloveds, suddenly _gone_, denied an orgasm.

The abruptness of it all forced her eyes wide open, looking at the two in shock and disappoint, and she quickly noted the darkening look in their features. Anger, spite, and immeasurable hate—their eyes burning brightly with fiery emotions that threatened to sear a hole on whatever they are looking at, concern immediately overpowered her mind, "Meili, Ser Emurdol, what is wrong?"

With their left arms, they reared it towards their right, both of Rem's held hands relinquished from their individual grasps, and they swung it backwards to the door behind them, with the wyrmm ducking down under her father's hand in the same motion, large snake fangs flying out of their palms and sticking midway into the wooden portal, splinters flying from the impact.

"WHUAGH!" From the sudden act of violence, a familiar voice yelped outside the door.

Before she even noticed it, Rem's hand suddenly did the same gesture, pointing a palm towards the door and shooting an ice version of a snake fang towards it, its entire length nearly slipping past the 3-inch wood.

"EEK! HEY! No need to react that badly, _meow_!"

With an ear-piercing scream so loud it cracked the glass windows and forced Rem to cover her ears, Meili enacted an onslaught towards the door and became a wrathful Shroud, slipping under the tiniest crack under the portal and immediately caused a panic once outside of it.

"WHooaaagh! What the hell!? What'r—stop!" It didn't take long before the sounds were driven far away from the room door, lots of crashing and yelling ensuing from the well-deserved punishment handed out.

Rem stared, blinking for a couple seconds before sagging against the bed in relief and disappointment. Then her face burned when she realized that she was actually _heard _moaning and even reacted by violent force, unbefitting of being Roswaal's maid.

"Mmmmnn…..!" Whining in defeat, she looked up to the sound of yawning before Emurdol gently set himself down next to her, his left arm lying atop her soft belly and his head resting next to hers on another pillow, a provoked look clouding his features as he closed his eyes.

She can see that he lost the mood to continue and has devolved to simple cuddles and sleep. But as someone who knew him for a while now, it takes a simple thing to light up a spark. It's when Rem initiates a kiss instead of him, which she rarely does.

And she did just that, rolling on her side and giving one to his lips, shocking him awake. It was brief but she made sure she left him wanting more.

And she managed the intended reaction out of him. He pulled her close, her breasts pressed up against his chest as both his arms are enclosed around her petite form and returned a much more passionate kiss to her. It didn't come with mana infusion but she still enjoyed it.

Then he suddenly parted, the kiss being too short for her liking, drawing out a rather cute whine, which she didn't mean to let out and her cheeks burned again upon realizing. Emurdol smiled again and nipped her upper lip, **"Meili will throw a tantrum if she finds us doing this without her."**

"Mm…." She reached up to place a hand on his cheek, caressing the _warm _surface of his skin. She smiled, "….Rem thinks Rem is taking her away from you. She's been getting much more lovey and affectionate with me since yesterday."

He huffed through his nose as a laugh, taking her hand to kiss the palm and nibble on it, **"As long as I'm still here, she will remain a love rival. I will not suffer defeat from her."**

Rem giggled, from the thought and from the ticklish sensation of his kisses, "You two don't have to compete. Rem loves you both equally, with heart and soul."

He let out a very pleased sigh at her words, his hot breath blowing into her palm. He pulled her close again, shifting just slightly to make his lips level with her forehead before he kissed it and said, **"Let's sleep a little more. It's not like you have any errands, do you?"**

"Um….There is not, so Rem would like to sleep with you some more."

Just as she was making herself comfortable, he suddenly said, **"And Rem?"**

"Mm?"

His embrace tightened, **"Just remember that I love you, with all of my heart and soul. Even if Meili would always be the first, there is a spot in my heart that is reserved only for you. No one else can have it. I can no longer imagine the future without you in it anymore."**

For a couple more hours, Rem rested in her lover's arms, weeping tears of heavenly joy, content and being the happiest woman in the world.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

With Felix _thoroughly _reprimanded by Crusch for eavesdropping on something extremely private, a vengeful Meili had been dissuaded from throwing out her full wrath on the demihuman by Wilhelm, the same old senior with a Soul of love hovering around him.

That fury still boiling, the wyrmm immediately demanded the old butler of the Karsten House to exchange blows with her just so it could be vented out before somebody else becomes a victim of it, not giving a thought about going back to her favorite maid's company.

The old gentleman had no objections.

For the next two hours, a pair of dull bone sickles clashed against a waster. As it turns out, Wilhelm happened to be a very skilled fighter despite his age, quick as a thunderbird and hits like a stone troll. His movements indicated finesse and decades of practice and experience, and proved to be more than a match against a creature moving in blurs and tending to hit low.

The relief is visible on Meili's face, as her fierce look slowly became uplifted with thrill and _madness _with every increase of intensity in the series of striking and defending, even if she's suffering rather harmless blows from Wilhelm more and didn't get to hit him back much_. _If fortune favors, she might not snap at Felix the next time she sees him.

But Emurdol is certain that her frustration is clearly coming from her failure yesterday at the parade grounds of the Castle. Reinhardt had visited the Karsten Mansion during the night simply to check up on her and mention his apologies. It ended on a good note. Meili even kissed his cheek and embraced him, giving him 80% of her mana as a parting gift.

Emurdol doubted that the sincere courtesy from the Knight of Knights was enough to quell the bitter embers deep inside despite her affectionate gesture.

It was clearly the case, judging by the new pattern of movement Meili was using against Wilhelm, completely different to what she used on the Sword Saint yesterday. She's reconfiguring her style. Instead of being methodical, she's being _inconsistent_. Her attacks don't follow a flow of rhythm, constantly changing at random intervals, and it's even forcing the old gentleman to put on more effort in his defense.

It's a style nearly similar to Mother's.

Reinhardt had _actually _made Meili leave that mock battle stronger than ever. She's creating a pattern that suited her body's limits, her height, and her set of weaponry she could utilize in a flurry of attacks.

The wyrmm is even accommodating Void Walk into her arsenal, deforming the shape of her body and making her attacks appear randomly from wherever parts of the inky-black cloud. It's almost as if Wilhelm was fighting a millipede with its many pairs of legs built like stabbers and cutters going for his head.

It was an ingenious technique that landed more than a few good blows on the old gentleman before her mana ran out, turning her body solid again and left herself open to his turn of the offensive.

Had it been any other opponent, they'd be dead within the first 10 seconds.

Meili left the yard with dirt and grass all over her, sporting a few bruises and such, but she left smiling and exhilarated, earning lots of praises from Viandegroc, Rem and Emurdol that have been watching from the side for the last couple dozen minutes.

Changing into her black shoulder strap dress, capelet and leggings, the Necromagus family and maid enjoyed breakfast with the Lady of the House and her Knight without trouble. Meili maintained a polite demeanor around Felix, the latter returned the courtesy in her own way that managed to annoy the child even more, and then eventually, the demihuman proceeded to tease Rem and Emurdol about their early morning honeymooning.

The maid was all blushes and stutters, but the Necromagus didn't hesitate in sending out death threats, such as melting his tongue with the Emurdol Venom if he doesn't shut up. Crusch graciously but sternly silenced her Knight before it got any worse, especially with the aroma of Sally's vapors about to fill the entire dining room.

Aside from that, breakfast passed by without any more trouble. The food was delicious, he can admit. When they were through, Meili quickly left the room while pulling Rem by the hand, eager for another outing, hopefully without any more neck twisting through the Link. Emurdol and the Flesh Golem stayed behind.

Downing the last of the water in his mug, Emurdol gently set it down and stood up, facing a seated Felix, **"Felix."**

"It's Feli, mew know!?"

Emotion Suppression was at play, blocking off all annoyance from showing on his exterior, leaving only a straightforward and no-nonsense demeanor. **"Are you occupied during the day?"**

"Huh….um, I guess." Felix shrugged, "Lotsa patients are needing Feli's care so yeah, I'm gonna be busy. Why do ya ask? Are you needing some sweet, sweet attention from me? Oh, Emewdul, you cheating man~"

**"Regarding the healing of my body. It's going to be an operation, and likely going to last for more than six hours. So I would like you to reserve time as soon as possible so you can be prepared for it."**

Felix quickly deflated, knowing that he will not draw the desired reaction from the stony man, "Yeah, I meow. Lady Emilia told me about the nature of your condition. I arranged for the operation to begin tomeowrrow so you're gonna have to wait for now. I just gotta handle a few appointments in the Capital first."

**"Did she tell you that I have surgical skills?"**

"Yeah." He turned a mock stink-eye towards Sally, who stood at the corner of the room since she arrived, holding her pipe in her hand while impersonating a statue. "I hear that your _Brother _can do the same, _meow_. And did I hear her right when she said that mew operated on _yourself_?"

Slight disbelief was present in his voice.

**"Countless times, Felix, with my most recent being a month ago or so."**

"It's Felis!" He insisted.

**"I can operate on anywhere in my body below the neck. But I can do nothing about the Rot in my throat, especially without your magic." **Emurdol stared deep into Felix's amber eyes, a hint of severity in his green orbs amidst the dullness, **"Tell your assisting surgeons that I will be taking the lead of the operations."**

"_What_!?" Felix suddenly shot up to his feet and knocked his chair backwards, shock clouding his features, "You are gonna _what_!? Emewdul, do you even know what the heck you're saying!? You can't be _awake_ while I'm operating on you!"

**"Remember what Roswaal said in the chambers. My body is fundamentally different in structure. It is _nothing _like a demihuman's. You know that yourself when you touched me. I have other organs normal humans don't, and my body is built to repel any form of sedative you give me, including those of magical-make. You cannot make any progress without my guidance."**

"But! B-b-but!" He eventually groaned, scratching his flaxen head, "Can't you just give me a briefing of what I should do instead?"

**"Educating you about it will take even longer than the operation would, and I do not intend to impose on this house for too long than I have to. Besides, the procedure is very simple. We get rid of the decaying flesh, and you follow after that by restoring them. I merely need to advise. However…" **Emurdol placed black skeleton fingers against his scarred neck, **"….regarding this area, _this_ is something I cannot handle. I could have fixed this long ago, but the Rot has managed to find its way here as well. It needed a truly specialized sort of healing magic. And that is where _you_ step in. It is built exactly as that of any human so you can handle it yourself."**

Felix was conflicted, his face contorting across varying emotions, from confusion to conflicted, unsure how to take in his demand.

"Why not humor him, Felis?" Crusch, silent since the conversation started, finally suggested.

"Lady Crusch…."

"Emurdol Viandegroc is quite confident in his words, and I can see the experience in his eyes as he stated them. It is quite audacious to say this, considering I am no master surgeon myself, but just like he said, he has much more knowledge in what's to come compared to you."

The Death Mage nodded gratefully to the Duchess, **"You simply have to follow my lead. It will not be too demanding, I assure you." **He gestured with a skeleton hand to Sally's direction, **"That is why _he_ will be involved as well. He will handle any difficulties or complications in case they arrive."**

The Flesh Golem finally became mobile from her frozen state, nodding to the demihuman as she took an unused seat on the table and gracefully sat down on it, "Not me myself but the _other one_. He has as much surgical knowledge as the both of you."

**"Now if you will excuse me, my daughter and I as well as our dear maid will be having an outing in the Capital." **He nodded to Crusch and Felix, **"I will be back before dusk, hopefully with some gifts. If you have any more questions, Felix, you can ask _him_."**

"For the last time, _it's FELIS_!"

A shit-eating grin made its way to Emurdol's face, **"Felix."**

"Grrrr…."

He nodded to the Duchess, **"Madam Crusch."**

"Emurdol Viandegroc." She returned the courtesy and nodded back.

Arms crossed behind his back, his open vest that left the middle of his scarred white torso and most of his scars bare slightly flying from his spin, he walked out of the dining room and closed the door behind him, his thudding footsteps receding into the distance until it's gone.

"I believe none of us have properly met yet." Suddenly, what was supposed to be a voice glazed with seductive honey was instead a masculine, soft and very polite intonation, belonging to a brown-haired handsome young boy that now sat in Sally's place.

Nodding respectfully to each person, first to a stone-faced Crusch and then to a gobsmacked Felix, he began the introductions, "Salutations, Lady Crusch Karsten and Master Healer Felix Argyle. My name is Viandegroc, his Brother. If you have any questions, I am happy to answer them within reason."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Hiiii!" Meili greeted with enthusiasm as she ran up to Raeburn that waited in the same ruins around the abandoned districts again, grabbing both his held out hands.

"Hello again, Little One." He smiled gently, squeezing her cold little hands back through their interlocked fingers. "You look adorable in that dress."

"I was wondering what had happened to you yesterday, but I was glad to hear the good news." Zakurah mentioned, stepping up and placing a metal hand on Meili's silver head. "How are you now? Feeling any better?"

"Yeeeaaah." Meili turned to the Holy Knight, releasing Raeburn's hands before removing her glove to clutch the whitesteel-covered fingers on her head, rubbing her small thumbs on it. She sighed pleasantly, "So fluffy. Yeah, I'm feeling greeeaat. Also, I have a surprise for you twwooooo!"

"Oh?"

"What does the Daughter of the Hero has in store for us?"

Meili wore a big smile full of pride, twirling away from the two, her skirt flaring in the motion and sliding to a stop, her outstretched left hand pointing to the alleyway she came from. "Introduciiiiiing…..! Papaaaaaa!"

They waited for a short amount of seconds, then their expectant faces went blank when the owner of the thudding footsteps of odd quality finally arrived from the darkness and stepped into the decently-lit open.

Emurdol matched their gesture, keeping his face tame under a neutral visage, but his mind took in the details, one by one.

The man, no taller than below his neck, looked generically _ordinary_. Emurdol would take a simple glance at this boy, and he would easily forget him the sooner he looked away. He was another thread of the tapestry, easily disappearing in the crowd, just another random face—average length black hair, simple tanned-skin, standard height, normal brown eyes, as young as 17 turns, and wearing an attire of a tunic and leather trousers that you would see from any other commoner.

Ordinary to the core.

But Emurdol _cannot _forget him, especially after what the two of them did together in Pandemonium. No matter how many years, the chapter they shared in life will never left his mind.

This _bastard _was the one who taught him the meaning of fighting alongside a _living _being, and it involved the traditional act of murdering each other on first sight.

If he had his voice by now, he would have chuckled. So he only let out a huff and an amused grin.

The break of the monotony took away the blank expressions of the man and the knight behind him, the latter smiling ironically, "Surprised to see me in this world, Necromancer?"

His green eyes flashed, a fiery emotion flaring up inside, but it was not anger. **"Now I remember why I wanted you dead the sooner I saw you. You're still as annoying as the day I nearly beheaded you." **

The man didn't seem surprised by the grisly voice in his head, "Well, if I actually left a mark on your memory, I think I'm gonna consider that my personal achievement, considering your reputation."

A shiny black sickle suddenly appeared in Emurdol's black skeleton hand, **"Care to continue where we last left off of?"**

The man held the long hilt of his weapon that stood out behind his right shoulder, an obvious club seeming to stick to his back without any form of attachment or harness, "If your head's ready to go bald from the frustration, I'm ready for you any time, Necromancer."

The prompt was given, and Emurdol took it without hesitation, dashing like a black blur towards the young man and swinging the sickle to behead just like their first meetings.

And the past from 3 years ago seemed to repeat itself.

His spine bending backwards in a remarkable angle of flexibility in his dodge, the curve of the sickle passed in front of his face, and he snapped back up like a bamboo stalk. Accompanying his straightened posture was the drawn-out club he held one-handed, a gothic mace and an octagonal length lined with studs and spikes about to meet his mug.

And it didn't go any closer than an inch away from his temple, the wind blowing Emurdol's hair back and veins bulged on the arm holding the weapon for a brief moment.

As they held themselves like that, with the club close to the Death Mage's face and the sickle pointing to the side post-swing, one consistent detail that the two shared and was noticed by the women were the angry _smiles _on their faces.

"Don't you remember?" The boy asked, "It's not going to work. Your head nearly came off last time. And you don't have your other arms with you as well."

Green orbs glowed bright in intensity, inwardly sighing for having the Mutual Suffering Curse nullified by him _once again_. **"It has been a long time, boy, long enough for me to grow. Don't expect the same old tricks."**

"Same here, Necromancer." The growing pressure of his presence destroyed the average image of his appearance, large enough to come off as a very enraged Hellspawn titan. "I was raised in Hell like you, and now I got a taste of another this world has. 5 years of it, and a few more back in Pandemonium before I was forced here, and I _still _came out a winner. What do you have to match?"

_Everything_. That was Emurdol's answer. As simple as that. From the day he saw the Above-World for the first time, to the day he was taken away from it and into this world.

But he doesn't need to say it. This boy just needs to look at him in the eyes, and he'll see it. The Necromagus can see it in him as well. If he was to turn the question back at the young man, the same kind of impression he'll make in his brown orbs will match.

This boy, however he lived in this world for the last five years, has become _strong_ since they last saw each other.

Then suddenly, the smile on the man's face was no longer angry, now genuine and free of all initial hostilities, willing to let bygones be bygones and start anew. He moved his weapon away from the Necromagus' face and rested it on his shoulder before letting go, the heavy head making it slip off and then _stuck _to his back.

He stepped back and held out a hand, "You never bothered to know my name, did you? Well, people who know my skills call me Raeburn Cursebane. When it comes to friends, they just call me Raeburn or Ray. It feels odd for me to say it but it is quite refreshing to know that a prominent figure in Pandemonium is in the same situation as us."

Hiding his sickle back into the void, Emurdol took his hand with his skeletal own without hesitation, making sure it's not tight enough to hurt but just enough to express the same sentiment towards somebody else in the same situation as him, **"Whoever or whatever I was in Pandemonium, it _stays _in Pandemonium. In this world, I am simply Emurdol Viandegroc. I never truly expected to see you here, _Mace_."**

They shook hands rigidly, smidges of resentment lingering in their grasps but the willingness to know the other overpowered such emotions. Raeburn was a lot more enthusiastic in his handshake compared to Emurdol, causing the skeleton hand to blur in such intensity under the boy's hand, "Lucky for me, because I wanted to thank you for not killing me back then. You changed the way I see you and your kin. I appreciate your mercy, _Necro_."

Emurdol huffed at the nickname, willing to tolerate the abbreviation. They parted their hands, **"You don't seem to be any different than the last time I saw you. Do you ever age?"**

Raeburn shook his head, looking distastefully at the memory, "Not anymore. The Cult's magic made me like this. I've passed 24 turns and everybody still thinks it's my 17th. Speaking of age dissonance, look at _you_. I know you're young but you look like you're about to reach the 59th."

**"I'm younger than you, Mace, and I already have a child." **The voice was quite deadpan, with a hint of annoyance.

"Well, you changed compared to me, Necro, and not just in the growth aspect. I thought your kind never get scars." He gestured to his many scars all over the revealing places of his white upper body wearing a black vest. "What caused them?"

Emurdol sighed, looking away with a visible scowl on his face. Raeburn realized quickly that he just touched on a sensitive subject _again _and promptly shut up.

Meili held his skeleton hand, drawing her father's attention, looking down on his daughter holding out her other arm towards him for a hug. Without delay, he quickly placed a forearm under her thighs and lifted her up. Looking behind him, he beckoned for Rem with a free hand, and the little maid happily sauntered to his side, interlocking fingers with his skeleton hand.

Though it was already clear from yesterday, seeing a Necromagus flanked side by side by their loved ones was something Raeburn never thought he'd see in his life. Common belief and propaganda never humanized them in any way, nowhere different compared to any other hellspawn that kills for the sake of killing, having no humanity in any way or even family.

With his right arm hugged by his beloved, the other holding up his daughter against his chest while she caresses a remarkable scar on his chest from the opening of his vest, he replied to the boy, **"These scars are _very_ special. Their origins hold significance to a special chapter in my life, and I intend to wear them proudly until the grave."**

They were only human, just like him. Raeburn fully understands that now.

He pursed his lips, frowning for half a second before it turned into a look of admiration, "That's nice. You must be blessed, having these beauties as your family."

Meili giggled, her brown hand patting Emurdol's hair that ran down his back, "Thank you, Misteeeer."

Rem bowed politely to him, a blush adorning her cute face, "You're too kind, Master Raeburn."

Emurdol nodded to him gratefully, then turned his attention to the Holy Knight that had awaited her opportunity to address him or be addressed by him, and he noted her appearance with interest.

The Holy Knights were never subtle in their appearance, clad in whitesteel armor sanctified by holy water and the blessings of the Cardinals, proudly worn and flaunted over the masses, making them easily identified from even afar, but even this sort of getup is new. The typical shine of light that will glow from the steel even in the darkness is present, but the aesthetic and size is different. While it's decently bulky, it has more emphasis to the ease of movement than protection. Additionally, the cross on the chest plate is upside-down.

This 'warrior of God' had shining gold hair, done in a braid to make sure her locks doesn't bat against her face and fashioned into a small tail so it doesn't get easily grabbed. Her eyes were a shining blue, far brighter than Rem's own, prominently so against her pale and fairly attractive face that denoted dignity and strength of will, quite similar to Crusch.

Instead of appearing like any other Holy Knights he met before her, full of zeal and fire-eyed self-righteousness, so eager to take his life without a second thought, this one was _hesitant._

And it threw Emurdol off. Never in his life, would he ever see a Holy Knight lack any sort of confidence, _ever_.

"You…." Her voice quivered as she spoke, as if she was having difficulty in finding the right words _and _the strength to force them out, "….you….are _him_…..you are _actually _him….! Emurdol Viandegroc, Slayer of Envy, Eradicator of Gluttony, Conqueror of Greed, Abolisher of Pride, son of the Ivory Queen…..and Hero of Pandemonium…!"

The ground _shook_.

The woman suddenly fell to one knee, _shattering _the ground, her sword planted to the ground, the hilt held with both hands, she neared her forehead to the cross-guard as a form of salute before looking back up to his bewildered gaze, "I cannot express how much it is an honor to meet you in person. Pardon me if I come across you as an annoyance but this is actually the greatest moment of my life. My Master spoke so much of you, I believe you know him? Pericus?"

_I have a fan? And a _Holy Knight _at that?_

Not once in his worst nightmares would he ever think that it was _possible_.

Letting go of Rem's hand, he approached the kneeling Knight and held out his skeleton hand to her, **"Did he accomplish what he promised me?"**

She nodded earnestly, "He did, and he died doing so. May God rest his Soul in Peace." She took his hand and rose up to her feet, but she did not let go of the other. "In his place, I have reformed the Holy Knights and reshaped our Creed. No longer are we the instruments of the Archangel Michael, we now follow the ways of Humility that befit the Apostles of the Lord."

Emurdol's eyes glowed coldly, and, sat on his left forearm, Meili's eyes glowed in the same impression amidst her impassive visage as she looked into the Knight's blue orbs. **"Does that earn you redemption? Does such a thing absolve the sins of the Order and wipe the blood of the innocents staining your hands?"**

"No." The answer was instantaneous, not in reflex but in conviction, resigned to the truth long ago. "We do not have the right to forgive ourselves nor do we deserve the hand of forgiveness from those we have hurt. Only God can forgive us, and until it is given by His messengers, I will not rest for the sake of the Church's redemption."

He looked at the upside-down cross on her chest plate, knowing the connotation of humility behind it, and knowing the man Pericus, he _definitely _would have raised this girl into what the Holy Knights _should _have been. That was his promise.

He had faith in that bastard; he was an earnest kind of bastard, full of duty and honor unlike any other. One of the fewest Above-Worlders he ever held confidence towards. It wasn't certain if Holy Knights are the same no matter their morality but he cannot doubt the kind of mindset this woman had, this woman who is undeniably called **Zakurah**. She carries her Master's legacy in her person, from his sense of duty to the fire in his eyes.

Perhaps, for the very first time, he will finally give the Holy Knights a chance. He didn't think it would happen outside Pandemonium, however, or while he is still _alive_.

He shook her hand steadily, and he leaned downwards, with Meili pulling the Knight close by the shoulder until she was forehead to forehead with him, passing onto her his mana through the contact before parting. A gesture of Peace from a Priest of the Serpent. **"I commend your will, Zakurah. It seems my _friend_ raised you well."**

The elation on her face was magnificent, having received such words she'd never expect to hear from her idol, especially when she was ready to be spited for being one of the enemies that ever slighted him his whole life. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Lord Emurdol. You don't know how much this means to me!"

And suddenly, his skeleton hand broke apart under her grip, the empowered durability unable to withstand the strain of the intensity of her handshake. Emurdol only raised an interested eyebrow at her strength.

"Oooooh….." Meili was quite impressed by her feat, considering that the structure of the hand enabled it to crush rocks instantly.

"There goes your good impression." Raeburn wryly remarked, crossing his arms with a cheeky smirk.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that!" Her panic was quite composed, but the terror in her eyes could not be hidden, as if she had just incurred her idol's wrath. "Forgive me for my lack of restraint, but I was unable to contain my—"

**"Stop that. _Please_." **He levitated the shattered parts on the ground back and reconstituted his black skeleton hand together, the cracks disappearing under the glow of green emanating from the gaps. **"It's _disgusting_ to see a Holy Knight acting like this. Where is the fire and self-righteousness and the zeal? You and your lot used to be so arrogant to the point of hypocrisy, treating your fellow man with subhuman handling for the smallest of slights, alleged or not."**

"You must understand, Lord Emurdol." Zakurah half-pleaded half-pointed out, troubled by the mention coming from him. Anyone else and she can take it in stride but him, he was a special case. She admired this man, and though it was well-deserved, she didn't wish to be disliked by her Master's friend. "This is penance for our sins. Thinking back about what my predecessors did brings no limit of shame to my heart, and I cannot see myself acting as I wish while my hands are not clean, therefore we _must _act the part."

His skeleton hand held her shoulder, and his green gaze held a certain amount of intensity that demanded her cooperation, **"Your obligations are your own, but you must understand that this world is _not _Pandemonium. Act however you wish, simply remember that the people here do not know that you or your Order exists. Seeking forgiveness in this place is useless, for none of them suffered from your hands."**

"Speaking from experience, Necro?"

A baleful scowl made its way to the Necromagus' face, not liking how unexpected Raeburn's deduction came, **"_Unfortunately._ Continuing to think that the world is against me did more harm to my own being than it saved." **He released Zakurah's shoulder and looked her squarely in the eye, **"I'd like you to not harm yourself by continuing a mindset that doesn't matter here."**

"Plus, it's gonna give you wrinkllllles." Meili reached over and booped the woman's nose with her brown finger, feeling cotton from the fingertip, "Just a friendly advice from the two of uuuus. Like Papa said, you can still act how you like."

"Understood." With full seriousness, Zakurah heeded his advice without hesitation, bringing a baffled look on her companion's face, "I will keep your words to heart, Lord Emurdol and Miss Meili."

"_What_? Okay, this is ridiculous." Exasperation spilled from Raeburn's mouth, "I've known you for weeks now, and you only take half my advice regarding your profession. You met him for only a _couple of minutes_, must I remind you, and you _instantly _heed his advice without questions! Am I missing something here!?"

Emurdol and Meili turned around, one laughing on the inside while the other giggled delightfully as they returned to Rem's side, ignoring the steadily-rising squabble behind them consisting of a former cultist pawn and a friend's promised apprentice.

It could just be the start of a beautiful friendship, or the start of a wonderful disaster. Emurdol can accept both. A bit of spice in life will make things a bit more interesting.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

_"Jeez, you truly aren't one for questions, aren't ya?" In a casual intonation, Raeburn dodged and blocked the series of vicious swipes and stabs that aimed to end his life as quickly as possible. Judging by the strength behind each strike, they would have been enough to either bisect him completely or leave a gaping hole in his body if they ever landed._

_He jumped before his last position with his opponent got riddled with spikes that suddenly came out of the ground. Had he been too late, he would have suffered one straight up the ass. The Necromancer didn't jump away, however, instead the trajectory of the bony spikes were inches away from every part of him._

_Then they flew upwards, breaking from the stem and darting straight to him, where he is completely incapable of movement except falling from gravity. _

_"HA!" He swung his club at one spike, rendering it to dust, and the rest followed the same fate, the mana propelling them suddenly wiped out. "Didn't see that one coming, did you!?"_

_He spoke too soon, as a boulder from the side suddenly careened to his face, courtesy of a Rock Golem he failed to notice standing way far back into the forest that it couldn't be noticed by the Souls. _

_"SHIT!" In reflex, his club swung at the base of the boulder and it was decimated to dust and tiny pieces, but the momentum behind it is passed to his body and it blew him straight to the wall of the building. Roughly bouncing off the surface and landing back on his feet, he coughed out the rock dust he ate and rubbed his eyes, "Damn it, I didn't see _that_ com—"_

_He rolled to the side as a bone spear nearly impaled his face, and he walked right into the Necromancer's range. A sickle was about to behead him and a kris followed close behind to destroy both his kidneys. The opportunity to dodge was too late, but the maneuver to escape death is still usable. The point of the curvy tool lacerated his neck as he evaded it and the wavy knife grazed the back of his waist._

_When he evaded the worst of it, he jumped back as far as possible, bumping his back into the giant double doors of the Cathedral, where the Ritual was happening behind it. Raeburn dabbed his fingers on his neck, seeing that it was bleeding heavily. He didn't try to look at his waist but he can tell he's leaking badly there as well. "Well played, Necromanc—"_

_"**AAAAAAAARRRGGGHHHH!‼**" The pale Death Mage howled demonically at him, green eyes blazing brightly and his hair fanning out, framing his face terrifyingly like a shrieking banshee, baffling Raeburn for a split-second as he never knew their kind to be so _loud_, and under the glare of the full moon, his eyes found round shapes rising up to the sky and arcing down on his position in the edge of his vision._

_He only had a second to figure out what they are and gawk before his exasperation reached its limit, "Oh, you've GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"_

_At the end of his indignant shout, the 43 boulders that were thrown to his location _decimated _the Cathedral to the ground, burying the cultists inside._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"How did you survive, Master Raeburn?" Rem asked, taken in by the story. He did talk about it during their first meetings yesterday but he mentioned very little details to her and Meili.

**"Bastard escaped the barrage. I compliment his speed, however." **Emurdol answered in the middle of drinking his glass of fruit drink, **"After the landing of one boulder, he used the dust as cover and hid out of sight."**

"Then he forgot I existed," Raeburn added, now onto his third burger, his current one halfway from being placed in the void in his belly. "He and his Golems just ran into the rubbles to confirm the bodies if they're dead."

**"I didn't forget, Mace." **He firmly pointed out, glaring at the boy across the table. **"I had my awareness planted on you the entire time. You simply were not my priority."**

"Destroying the cult was my priority as well, Necro. It's not my fault nor yours that we didn't realize what they were actually doing in there." He paused, taking a drink of water. "I was their most valued soldier but it didn't mean they'd share their plans with me. I was just their tool."

"Questiiiooon," Meili raised up a hand.

Raeburn's face warmed up instantly as he faced the little one seated beside her father, "Yes, what's your question, child?"

"What were the cultists actually doiiiing?"

"Ah." Raeburn looked at Emurdol, who strangely didn't answer the question this time. Since meeting him on the ruins and now eating in the same place Meili collapsed in yesterday, the Death Mage has been very proactive in answering every question relating to their first meetings, constantly cutting him off. "Right."

He nudged the woman beside him.

Quietly listening on the exchange of stories the whole time, having changed into her civilian clothes that presented her rather lean but slim physique, Zakurah watered down her meal with a drink of water and answered, "They were actually creating a Dracolich from the remains of the dead. The five hundred and nineteen bodies Raeburn stole for them made up the whole of the creature."

"Dra-co-lich?" Meili never heard of the word itself but she's getting the hint that a dragon was involved.

"Could that be the catastrophe you meant, Master Raeburn?" Rem asked, seated at the head of the table and beside Emurdol's left.

"Yes, indeed, Rem." The boy rested his elbow on the table and pinched his forehead, thinking back on the day, "A dead dragon brought back to life with necromancy and given a vessel of flesh by the bodies of the dead. It is as big as the cathedral itself, it could cover 20 houses under each of its rotten wings—it could even _fly_. Those wings makes up the majority of the stolen flesh compared to the rest of it. Just one flap of them would _rip _50 trees off their roots."

**"The monster equaled the might of a Hellspawn Titan." **Emurdol chewed his steak slowly, remembering just how much of a struggle it was to kill it. He was on short supply of bones that day, and most of the dead bodies he needed were already taken by the creature. **"The damn thing was too high in the air for me to reach, and much harder to kill since it was _already_ dead."**

"What are Hellspawn Titaaaans?"

"Well, child, you can call them the worst of the worst monsters to ever rampage across Pandemonium, second to the Supreme Sins." Raeburn answered, his eyes dulling for a few short seconds. "You can compare them to the Great Witchbeasts, especially the White Whale."

"Aaaah, okay."

Father and child did not miss the slight strain on the boy's voice when he mentioned one of Pandemonium's Titan equivalents. At some point during his five years in this world, he had history with one of the Three Great Witchbeasts.

Raeburn leaned forward, covering his mouth and whispering to Meili, "Back on our world…." He then leaned back, speaking in a normal volume, "…..they are not limited to being gigantic and dangerous, some could be as big as a house or even a man, but the damage they leave behind is catastrophic. The worst of it is that we don't know how many there are or where they are hiding besides the Uncharted Areas of the map."

**"Only my Mother could kill a Titan with little difficulty." **Emurdol remarked, the light of pride and slight envy glowing in his eyes. He remembered from other sources amongst his people that she could _fly _too. **"Compared to me, I needed proper preparation before I could kill one. And even then, it wouldn't be enough, as they are very unpredictable. There is no such thing as one Titan similar to another. They are _never_ the same, and it makes them difficult to counter. It vexes me."**

"If I may ask, Lord Emurdol, how many Titans have you killed?" Zakurah asked, her eagerness to know expertly veiled.

He frowned slightly, **"It is hard to tell, considering that it is quite difficult to classify what's a Hellspawn Titan and what's not."**

"So you have vanquished so many Hellspawns that you never bothered to know if they are a titan or not? That's impressive, Ser Emurdol! Rem is impressed!"

He found himself falling in love again for Rem's sincere praise, even if it came off as biased. **"I wish I could live up to your expectations, Rem, but no. If my memory serves, I have only killed 7 Titans, including the Dracolich."**

"_Only_, Necro?" Raeburn parroted exasperatedly, looking at the Death Mage as if he was some kind of lunatic, "You say that as if you expect regular humans like us to have killed at least ten in a single lifetime."

**"My kind tend to kill at least five as if it was protocol, Mace." **For the first time in a few months, Emurdol was being _smug_. The sight of it even threw Meili and Rem off, as they have never seen it before. **"I admit that I have been too proud and got carried away with my killing sprees in the Uncharted Areas."**

"What?" Disbelief clouded the boy's tone.

"Why would you do that?" Zakurah paraphrased the question her friend was trying to convey, showing disbelief as well amidst the controlled tone of her voice.

**"I wanted to see if Titan bones would make for good armor or soldiers." **Factually, he answered the Holy Knight. **"They did wonders in my attack against Greed and his armies."**

There was a certain implication in his words that Zakurah noticed, and her interest was piqued.

Raeburn was the one to mention it, "Don't tell me you raised every hellspawn you killed there as your minions and marched them straight to Greed's army."

Emurdol wore a shit-eating grin.

"I** raised every hellspawn I've killed there as my minions and marched them straight to Greed's army. There were also Titans among them as well and the enemy was annihilated under no more than 3 hours." **Lucifer crossed a line, and the Hell Emurdol brought to his castle gates and within was _more _than well-deserved. For the first time in his life that day, he never thought the concept of war that he first thought useless was now _cathartic_.

"I remember my Master's stories about it." Zakurah mentioned, rubbing her thumbs together, "My Master was involved in that war alongside Kozam Ironhand in the army. He told me that most of the enemy soldiers were just draftees and simply following orders. My Master had a difficult time trying to convince you to spare the ones who are not fighting back, Lord Emurdol."

**"Indeed." **Emurdol could still remember the day. It was outright impossible to ever forget about it, as he came _very _close to killing his friend out of frustration. **"Bastard nearly died for even suggesting I spare my enemies' lives when they would not do the same. Not only that, I was clouded by rage that day. It was by miracle that I was able to see his logic in sparing the ones who yielded or surrendered."**

"They were victims too." Raeburn mentioned, having known the story himself from the Holy Knight a week or so ago. "They either obeyed orders out of fear or they didn't have a choice at all."

Zakurah added up, "My Master and Lord Kozam was able to rally them together to fight back against the corrupt King that was Greed, fighting alongside Lord Emurdol's undead army."

Inwardly, Emurdol wished she used the term 'Army of the Dead'. The _horde _he led that day was something to remember in the Order of the Serpent's history.

**"When I breached the castle gates, the defectors made the right move of evacuating the civilians out of the Kingdom. The coming battle between me and Greed will warp the very area into a hellscape, and _no one _will be spared, friend or foe. It was left to my own hands to kill Lucifer, for good."**

Emurdol's face became grim, looking back at that horrid memory where he turned the Kingdom into a Dead Zone with his thousands of his worst curses and toxins he exhumed to the air. One of the many aftereffects he left behind from that long, _long _battle.

**"To my slight surprise, he actually destroyed my army singlehandedly. Even when he killed the last construct, he was more than ready to take me on afterwards. That battle lasted for a whole five days."**

"You fought Greed, for _five days straight_?" When Raeburn asked that, there was no emotion in his words, as if he was holding back either his disbelief or his exasperation.

**"I did _not_ confront him unprepared, Mace."** A strong aura of seriousness permeated out of Emurdol, gazing intensely at the boy's eyes, **"I _never_ underestimated the other Sins before him. _Envy_ himself was a dangerous monster. Even if he could be killed like any other human, his zombie army was _worse_ than him. They were all lethal and dangerous, but Greed was the very strongest in terms of strength and power. He was nigh-indestructible, second to Pride. Not even my unified strength with Mother could match up to him. In the aftermath, I nearly died, _again._"**

"…..how did you kill him?" Raeburn hazarded.

The answer was laced with cold _spite_, **"I pulled out the most hateful Souls of the Spirit Realm that held an everlasting grudge against Greed and released them on his flesh. Those Souls were the very same people he has done wrong, and he reaped what he had sown."**

Zakurah nodded earnestly, his tale matching up to the ones told to her by her Master. There was a certain detail she knew the Hero was omitting, the one thing that powered his urge to kill the Supreme Sin in the first place, and she respected his silence, "And while you were recovering from your wounds, my Master did the handiwork of cleansing the Kingdom from the Taint you left on it. The only thing he couldn't clear out were the spots you marred with your very worst curses. The civilians took as long as you were sleeping to return to their homes when you were needed to get rid of it, Master said to me. Was that true, Lord Emurdol?"

He would have audibly harrumphed if he had his voice, but he nodded to affirm her inquiry anyway, **"Your Master disturbed me from my slumber, and if he had actually lost his head that day, I might have _not _felt bad about it, regardless if he earned my respect as an equal and as a friend."**

Zakurah smiled fondly, "Yes. You swung a sickle at his neck. If it wasn't for God's protection over him, he would have died."

**"_No one disturbs my sleep, _Golden Child_._" **Emurdol mentioned the one warning he should have told to Pericus before Greed died, hoping that his apprentice is not going to repeat the same mistake. **"I don't care if the people want their homes back. I killed their oppressor, one of the worst humans to ever exist in their individual lifetimes. The least they could do is _allow _me my sleep."**

The Holy Knight chuckled good-naturedly, "My Master told me he didn't actually _want _to do that, Lord Emurdol. But the people were left out in the open, and there were too many of them. He, warrior Kozam and the defected soldiers can't protect all of them from hellspawn attacks, and even if joined with some civilians having combat experience, it still cannot suffice. He had no choice."

**"Fucking bastard." **

Despite the rather derisive reply, Zakurah as well as Rem smiled from it.

Actually bothering to go through with the request despite his need of sleep and rest belies his true character. It purely reflected their image of him as a _good _man underneath the image of darkness and death he usually lets out with his presence.

Meili patted his arm, calling for his attention, "Hey, you didn't finish the story about the Dracolich thiiiing. Keep it going."

**"That will make us likely last another hour here." **He looked out the door, squinting slightly from the bright sunlight reflected by the stone floors and the canvas of passing carriages, seeing that midday is about to come in a couple of minutes. **"It seems lunch is on the way. Do you wanna eat now, An'k?"**

"Sure!"

He placed a white hand on her silver head, stroking the silky locks with his thumb, **"Did you already apologize to the proprietor for giving him a fright yesterday?"**

"I diiid. He freaked out because he thought the food poisoooned me. It would be _bad_ for his busineeeeess." It drew a breathy chuckle from Emurdol before he kissed the top of her head and she went around the table, trailing a hand across Rem's shoulders as she did, and leaned forward in the space between Zakurah and Raeburn, arms crossed behind her back while her hair hung downwards. "So, what do you want Meili to treat you, hmmmm?"

"Wait, what?" Zakurah was caught off-guard by the repeated offer from yesterday.

"There she goes again with being the adult among us." Raeburn faced the father, "Seriously, Necro, how did you raise her?"

Emurdol smugly held up his hands in a form of a shrug, grinning lightly, **"All I ever do is spoil and love, exactly as a father should. Training aside, what she does without my directions is outside my control."**

"I appreciate the offer very much, Miss Meili, but I cannot. Surely, you've done enough?" The Holy Knight told humbly.

"Yes." The boy agreed, turning back to Meili, "I don't think my adult pride could take too much of your generosity, child."

"Another serving of a vegetable dish and three more burgers, coming uuuuup!"

"Hey, wait!"  
"H-hold on!"

Meili ran away from the two before they could stop her, drawing a lot of chuckles from the other patrons that were watching a pair of adults being treated like grandchildren.

A grotesque chuckle full of pride and mirth erupted inside the two's heads, drawing their attention back to the Death Mage that rested his check against his black skeleton fist, a genuine smile adorning his features. **"Oh, I love my little girl so much."**

"She's gone a long way thanks to you, Ser Emurdol." Rem pointed out with a cute smile, then she eagerly leaned forward to her lover's direction, an invisible tail wagging behind her. "But Rem won't mind if you give me praise for being a minor component of her growth."

Even if her role in his daughter's growth was downplayed, it still warms his heart to see that Rem's self-esteem has improved immensely compared to weeks ago where she cannot even accept a celebration set up by him and Meili, dedicated to her _Birthday._

Emurdol didn't hesitate in spoiling her, taking one of her hands resting on the table and leaned close to give her a short but passionate kiss to the lips, leading to her other hand placing itself atop his.

Zakurah and Raeburn took a while for them to fully acknowledge that the temperamental Hero before them is _truly_ in love with the incredibly cute little blue-haired maid. His face completely looked _amorous_, and it's something they never thought would see out of him.

Behind the Hero that liberated Pandemonium from the worst of Humanity's Sins, he is only a _man._

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Once Meili arrived with a tray loaded with the many dishes she personally picked for her company, steak for her father, bean soup for Rem, a different kind of vegetable soup for Zakurah, and a neat pile of three hamburgers to Raeburn, they finally went on to continue the tale of the day the Dracolich was slain.

For one thing, by the time Raeburn was busy gawking at the spontaneous creation of the creature after ambushing the Death Mage searching the rubble, that was the biggest mistake he ever made in Emurdol's presence. The most poisonous knife to ever exist went deep into his unguarded side while he was distracted.

Much to the Necromagus' shock, Raeburn's body _withstood _the toxins that could have killed 100 men instantly. His time in the Cult augmented his body greatly besides giving it incredible strength, speed and stamina as well as the lack of visible age, making him immune to most poisons except the very worst kind.

The sneak attack didn't entice retaliation from the boy, however, instead it led to him calling a truce, suggesting that they work together to kill the Dracolich before it reaches any human settlements or cities. Begrudgingly, Emurdol had no choice but to comply, as it was his business to stop the Cult's schemes before they've done something irreversible. Killing something very big _and _flying in the sky was outside what he was expecting, and he has no means of reaching it.

At the time, Emurdol didn't have any idea that the boy was trying to annihilate the cult himself as well with a set of traps and spanners thrown in the works done to sabotage the ritual. Therefore, it was a heavy gamble the Death Mage took to ally with an enemy whose intentions he didn't know.

Raeburn's idea of reaching the flying monster was by the same means Emurdol used to catapult the rocks that destroyed the Cathedral: with giant skeleton arms built like trebuchets. This time, the boy will be the rock.

Emurdol was _very _suspicious of the idea, as it could be a trick to throw the boy towards the Dracolich, which could possibly be his minion, but the Death Mage knew a lie from a trick, and he saw _none_ of both. The look of _fear _on Raeburn's face managed to convince him, so he complied, promising that if this was actually a trick, he will _never _let the boy's Soul reach the Afterlife and condemn it to a place worse than Hell.

With a speed that baffled Raeburn, the bony trebuchet _blasted _him towards the fleeing undead dragon, landing directly on its back and he acted quickly with his club in hand the sooner he had footing: destroying one wing. If it weren't for his enhanced strength that he received from the Cult, he never would have pulled it off under 10 bashes against the base of the appendage, especially while the creature was trying to fling him off.

When the wing fell, so did the Dracolich, screaming like a giant banshee as its large body sent out a shockwave that nearly tipped back the trees of the forest it crashed upon. Raeburn was falling after it, his club raised high above his head, aiming for a certain spot on his target right beneath him, and he caved in the monster's skull when he reached ground level, utilizing strength, momentum and weight into a single devastating strike.

He survived the fall, the shockwave of the creature's landing as well as his superhuman fortitude working in unison to keeping him alive, but the creature was still moving, not caring about the giant hole on the top of its head and instead fixed on a new target, _him_.

There was another horrifying detail about the creature that he was too late to discover: it was draining mana from _every_ source of life around it, from plants to living beings, including Raeburn. His club that could wipe out mana with every hit wasn't enough to do any sort of progress if it kept refilling its strength with his own pool of energy. The more he fought the monster, the more his body began to wane.

Raeburn thought he was done for when he was down on the ground, his form weighing like a mountain, about to get crushed by its raised claw, but Emurdol's timely intervention cut his meeting with death short in the form of a giant bone spear piercing right through one of the monster's eyes and exiting out the other one from the side, rendering it blind.

From the dismembered wing, Mother created a small batch of 20 club-wielding skeletons, made to be stronger and faster than regular constructs, and they bashed repeatedly on the Dracolich's exposed bone joints, intent on depriving it of any means to attack.

While his soldiers did its job on occupying the monster, Emurdol quickly supplied Raeburn hefty dose of his mana, energizing the former back to his feet, and the Death Mage mounted the undead Titan's shattered skull, putting himself and the creature in a clash, contesting in who can drain the other to the point of death.

Emurdol had maximized his ability in mana draining, but the Dracolich was a large beast, and it took massive mouthfuls of energy compared to him siphoning from a straw. They were on equal ground in terms of strength, but Emurdol's rage will not stand for the _abominable _practice of necromancy that was the creature's existence, created solely for the twisted whims of an evil Cult. No matter how much it struggled, writhed or bucked to get him off, he _never _let go, screaming a demonic roar the whole time, mixing together with its banshee-like shrieks.

Because of the clash between a Master of the Dead and an Undead Beast, the theft of mana and life force was isolated solely on each other, sparing anymore plant life and living being in the vicinity from becoming a shriveled husk, and that allowed Raeburn and the skeletons to break the creature apart, piece by piece. Thanks to Raeburn's mana-burning club, the monster was weakening in its fight, slowly becoming limbless, wingless, tailless, and eventually headless.

The boy didn't believe that it was fully dead and the Death Mage thinks so too, having planted the strongest Curse of Weakness on its entire being before dismounting off its skull and back to ground level, and their suspicions were proven right when the monster began recycling its dismembered parts to recreate itself, only to be unable to carry its own weight.

In the Spirit Realm, there is no such thing as weight. Nothing heavy nor light exists. Enforce that Rule in the land of the Living, and you will no longer be able to carry the weight of even your own _hair_. The Dracolich is made of _hundreds _of dead bodies, and that became its own downfall, effectively _destroying _itself to pieces_._

When it was nothing more than a pile of _extremely fragile _flesh and bones that could easily crumble to literal _dust _just by blowing on it, Emurdol slightly regretted that he couldn't take control over it instead. With a Dracolich minion, he would be able to kill Titans easily as well as get to faraway places under a short period of time. Damn the negative connotations it'll make if seen.

Thankfully, he has the grimoire they used to create it, excavated from the pile of Cathedral rubble while he was finishing off the cultists that were _still _alive thanks to their highly-enhanced physical durability. It would one day become useful when he faces Greed or Pride.

Seeing that the fight was over, the Cult finally dead and their twisted ends thwarted, Raeburn finally let go, allowing his body to succumb to the poison tainting his system thanks to Emurdol's knife. He's highly resistant to many toxins, but the Death Mage's concoctions were extremely potent, overpowering his defenses and effectively about to take his life.

But he had no regrets.

The Cult held his village hostage, for many years at that, tormented them as well, and Raeburn's choice to be their tool was the only way they could survive, especially when they are abandoned by the Holy Knights and the world. Now they are free of their wicked clutches, no longer needing to live in fear, and can now go on with their ordinary lives.

The Death Mage, who was his murderer, listened to him patiently and attentively as he told him his story before his time runs out, telling him his name, his supposed plan to destroy the cult within, what led to his situation, and what became of his village due to unfortunate circumstances.

Raeburn only had one request, and that is to tell the village that they were free. That's it. He didn't ask for a memorial or to be remembered or anything. It was a simple message of assurance.

And just like that, he closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

However, Emurdol did not allow him to pass on. At the time, he didn't know what came over him when he did it. He simply had the urge to do so, and he obeyed it, not daring to question why. He passed his blood onto the boy and put the body into stasis, keeping it from ever decomposing or dying completely no matter how much time passes.

Instead of having his skeletons do it, he personally carried his body to the greatest healer he was acquainted with, traveling for as long as _15 days_. The High Priestess of the Southern Clergy. She was an elderly woman blessed by God and his Seraphims, granted the sacred gift of Healing, capable of restoring limbs and organs from nothing, and cleanse away even the most violent disease that no average physician could cure.

There was no exchange that happened between the Priest and the Priestess, only indicating that a near-dying boy needs her help and dropped his corpse to her doorstep before leaving her monastery as quickly as he arrived, leaving her clueless as to what happened.

That boy's business is not Emurdol's business. If anyone is going to tell the village that they are free, it's Raeburn, not him.

But he won't forget this day, the _one _day where working with an Above-Worlder _actually _brought a good result.

Now, next order of business, read the grimoire, learn the secrets it held, and then _siege _Greed's Castle.

As the tale concluded, Emurdol realized that the women were giving him _very _admiring smiles. Whenever he tries to downplay his altruistic actions with practical reasons, they knew better.

Raeburn followed up by saying that he was actually bedridden for many months, his legs immovable and his nervous system compromised. He couldn't feel pain or even anything he touched. His body had to be manually moved from time to time to avoid arthritis complications that could lead to death since he cannot do so on his own. Despite the High Priestess' skill and efforts, the symptoms kept coming back whenever she successfully managed to purge out the toxins of his system.

The only possible cure was the all-power Rejuvenation Elixer, _extremely_ rare and _extremely _expensive. It took so long, but the High Priestess managed to get her hands on one, given to her by an anonymous source, and finally freed him of the Emurdol Venom, giving him back his original body functions, never appreciating pain, touch and taste so much in his life.

All eyes immediately went to Emurdol's direction.

Innocently, the Death Mage questioned why are they staring at him so strangely.

What's more bizarre is that his inquiry is actually _genuine_. It's up on the air whether he was the one who sent that rejuvenation elixir or not but they aren't going to address it. They will leave it at that.

Continuing on his tale, Raeburn had sent letters to his village about their tormentors being dead and gone during his recuperation, and now that he is finally able to walk again, he would have disembarked from the High Priestess' Monastery to the village after giving her heartfelt thanks, but he was suddenly forced into this world before he could, into the Empire of Vollachia.

After a series of complications, he ended up being a prisoner, a suspected spy or saboteur, and due to the philosophy of the Nation, he had to fight for his freedom in the Gladiator Islands of Ginunhive. It took him 5 grueling years, fighting and killing endlessly, every single day, not knowing if his life was going to end right then and there or maybe the day after.

Now, he's living happily in Lugnica for the last couple months, doing what he always wanted ever since he was a kid: playing musical instruments and singing songs for those who would like a bit of joy in their daily lives.

And he makes this very clear to Emurdol, leaning forward with a rather intense flare in his eyes, destroying his outward appearance as another face amongst the crowd once again and turning him into the person he was that survived 5 years in a Gladiator Arena, fighting to the death every single day, and _won._

"Take note, _Emurdol Viandegroc, _I may have been the greatest enforcer of the Cult, and I may have gotten stronger thanks to the Hell I went through in that Nation, but that doesn't mean that's all I am."

His voice was very casual and non-hostile. It only made his words have more weight in them, especially with the growing strength of his presence and the look in his eyes.

"I am Musician _first_, and a warrior _second_. I play music, sing songs of the Old World, that's it. I _don't _fight unless I had no choice."

Emurdol only grinned at him, green eyes glowing brightly in his sockets, **"I can make the fighter the dominant part of you whenever I like. Kindly remember that, _Raeburn_."**

Instead of taking the bait, the boy only deflated and softened his features, now back to being a face in the crowd, "I just don't want to remember that I was made into something I didn't ask for. It all happened because I was gifted with getting rid of curses."

**"Be thankful, either way." **Sagely, Emurdol told him. **"You wouldn't have survived there otherwise, and now you can use that gift for the sake of good."**

"I know. I know. I am being unreasonably hostile, I'm aware but….." He sighed, "….I simply wanted to assert that. Not to you or anyone, really. More to _myself_, rather. I just want someone to hear it."

Emurdol wasn't sure if the boy still has lingering regrets, or has some form of insecurity, **"Is your friend not enough?"**

Raeburn smiled to Zakurah, softly smacking her arm with his fist, "She's far too understanding for that. I wanted somebody that would bite back at me."

Meili nudged her father with her elbow, and the former answered accordingly, verbalizing their shared thought, **"My daughter and I are always welcome to help you with that, Mace."**

"From you, sure. But her?" He gestured to the cute child smiling invitingly at him, daring him to try and use a biting sentence on her, "Nah, no way. I don't wanna get cut down by anything from her."

"Awww. I won't bite haaaard. I promise."

Raeburn chuckled softly, placing a hand on her silver head, gently stroking it. "I'd rather not. As sweet as you are, I don't wish to know what happens when your fangs are bared."

Without excessive movement, Meili suddenly grabbed his hand with her gloved one, pulled it down in front of her face, and took his digits into her mouth, pointy white teeth bare harmlessly digging on the flesh. All under a single second.

Raeburn's only reaction was to widen his eyes.

Her red tongue lapped his fingertips, catching the taste of the hamburgers he ate before she drew back, still connected by a trail of saliva. Meili cut the string with her left index finger, licked it salaciously with her red tongue, and smiled coquettishly at him, "See. I didn't bite hard."

Zakurah and Raeburn instantly lost their appetite.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Big doggiiieee." Meili remarked, seated on her father's lap while looking at a big black and red wolf that sat on its haunches rather nobly beside its master, "What's his naaame?"

"Tank, my brother and partner." Raeburn introduced, scratching the large canine's head behind the ears. It maintained a dignified and stoic demeanor under the pets but its tail wagged rather energetically. "It took a while but he and I eventually grew to have each other's back. Standard procedure would be to raise them as pups. I got him when he's teenaged so the first meetings weren't ideal."

"He's quite distinct from one of the few Ligers Rem has seen." Rem commented, seated on an ivory chair next to Emurdol. "They are more light-colored."

"Indeed. He's quite special, actually." As he answered, Raeburn adjusted one of the many knobs of his rather uniquely-designed guitar, "Lots of people in Vollachia are black-haired, some like their mounts to share the same color-scheme too, though you'd be hard-pressed to find even one Liger there. They aren't common there so Tank's one of a kind."

"Kararagi has lots of them, I thiiink." Meili mentioned, adjusting the hoody worn on her head while Emurdol's hand stroked the fabric and dislodged it slightly again. "Though, if Tank comes from Vollachia, he's probably for military uuuuse."

"Not anymore, he's not." Raeburn pointed out with a smile, strumming a chord on his guitar, testing the overall tune of the strings. "In my care, all he gets to do is eat fat meat, sing songs with me, and keep the bad guys off my back. He's not risking his life anytime while I'm his master."

"He can siiing?" Meili asked excitedly.

"Oh yeah, he's got an _amazing _voice." Raeburn boasted bombastically, grinning very widely. "And the people _love _him, possibly even more than me. If it weren't for him, money won't easily come flying to the hat while I'm jamming."

**"I envy you, Mace." **Emurdol told, looking at the big black wolf with visibly jealous eyes. Now he's in an impasse whether he should invest in a Liger or a Ground Dragon.

"Ha! Coming from you, that's actually an honor. Gonna make it one of my biggest achievements yet." The Musician strummed the strings again, trying every chord possible, and he nodded approvingly. "Alright, we're ready. Since today's a special day, I'm going to play something you will _definitely _recognize, Necro."

**"Oh?"**

"I specifically picked this one as a sort of dedication _just_ for you. It involves zombies….." He began with an intro, plucking a few notes. "….and sentient plants." And he repeated the sequence, eyeing the Death Mage's incoming reactions.

To formalize the beginning, Tank released a low and haunting howl, his song reaching as far as 5 blocks.

Then feelings of a very, _very _ancient memory, belonging to someone young or bored, and enjoying the simple concept of defending what's yours, came flooding back to his head. He instinctively knew it came from the Old World, one of its countless memories now recurring back to his consciousness.

His arms wrapped around Meili's waist tightened, as if to keep himself from crumbling apart, and his eyes glazed over from the many, _many _sensations rushing across his head—a powerful surge of nostalgia.

Meili looked up to her father's face, suddenly feeling refreshed and melancholic at the same time due to the Link, noting the look on his face. She held her gaze on it, half her attention on the sound of the guitar going through the verse and the remaining half on the foreign emotion of nostalgia in her heart.

Raeburn's instrument is the typical guitar, clearly handcrafted with care and love, adorned with white ink designs that's compared a rippling fire. But its design was outside the norm, for it had _two _fretboards and the half of a _harp _with five strings merged above the base.

A harp guitar but with two fretboards, in layman's terms.

Raeburn's handling of the instrument was _godlike_. As if he's not even paying attention to what he's doing, his hands practically flew across the strings and the frets, plucking string after string in a very causal and practiced flare, every sound blending perfectly to create a very enchanting song that Rem, Meili and Emurdol never heard before, even if it was a song of the Old World. It was very reminiscent to playing a piano.

Not only that, he was whistling too, a clear and smooth toot that was impressively _loud_ without being too grating to the ears. It was so loud it could possibly be heard from a mile away if he tried. While his guitar played a repetitive sequence, his mouth produced the melody of the song, completing the one-man ensemble.

The song gave off the feeling of a haunted land, free of life or noise, silent as the grave, but carrying the omen of a certain disaster about to happen, silently crawling—shuffling towards its prey, and nothing can stop them unless one takes it upon themselves to fight back.

Emurdol's breathing quivered, his eyes closed as he was overtaken by the plethora of emotions going through him. There was dread, competition, determination, care, fear, dread, and _enjoyment_. His mind unconsciously wandered to a fantasy about a horde of zombies descending upon a lone man's home, their rickety bodies shambling on his green lawn and—

"Papa, look."

Broken out of the rapture he was going through, he was about to berate Meili but immediately held back when he noticed something unexpected.

The Souls that had been following Raeburn around ever since they met him were _dancing_. A disfigured waltz or a solo routine, they _danced_ to the tune of Raeburn's haunting song. They were going through the same plethora of emotions Emurdol was going through and they expressed it with a simple _dance_.

Simply looking at them compelled Meili to dance along with them, the magnitude of their feelings amplifying the urge, and thanks to the Link that doubled the sensation, Emurdol was beginning to be inclined to do the same.

They didn't simply dance, they were surging the mana of the atmosphere to Raeburn and his audience, but the former takes up much of the bounty for being the primary source of their entertainment. Posted in a shaded part of the Lugnica Capital's park, many bystanders were already gathering to the show, drawn to the alluring sound.

From this, Emurdol found out that this man can talk to Souls just like him and Meili. The phenomena of them giving him mana for satisfying their hedonistic urges is the evidence of that. Those who cannot see them can never do the same.

Just by sharing eye-contact, Raeburn knew that the Death Mage and the wyrmm knew what he can do besides swinging a club and playing the guitar. The Musician only grinned again, switching to another song as Tank howled to indicate the transition, "And now, my friends, allow me to reintroduce to you, _Grasswalk._"

One hand on the strings of the harp, the other hovering over the fretboard, he began. A slow and simple start, his right hand plucking the low strings of the harp while the left fingers hammered on the frets, and he followed up with the melodic whistling, calm and gentle in tempo. Then the verse eventually came, as enchanting as the first song, accomplished by the skilled handling of his instrument, dexterous use of his 10 fingers, and the toot of his mouth.

Eventually, Meili couldn't take it anymore. She detached herself from Emurdol's lap and arms and let herself go to the song. One of the lone Souls got lucky in being her dance partner before anyone else could, eagerly hovering in front of her and taking her hands, shoulders, hip, and thighs. With a bright smile that was luminescent from her beautiful face, the wyrmm performed an otherworldly waltz with the dead. While flavored with a common choreography seen from festival dances, the Soul made her body perform bizarre positions and forms, from balancing on the tip of her toes to bending her back fully backwards that her upper body is parallel to the ground. Additionally, her hair was swaying against unseen waves, as if she was performing underwater.

The bends and angles of her body and limbs seemed to defy the natural laws of physics, gyrating and swaying in a grace that could only a snake or a sea dragon swimming across the depths could do, as if she little amount of bones in herself or it was made of water.

It was unsettling, spine-tingling, even repulsive, but it was incredibly hypnotic, impossible to look away from. Despite the eerie factor of her waltz, it was undeniably _beautiful_. It fit well with the theme of the song.

Immediately, the Souls began tipping her mana for adding spice to the entertainment. Not just the Dead, even the Living were taken in by the darling girl's dance, rewarding her with an enthusiastic round of applause.

Emurdol and Rem were left _breathless_, bewitched by her. Raeburn himself mindlessly played his instrument, his eyes magnetized to the child's liquid-like body, his whistles turning into a drone.

The only one to have the presence of mind to simply admire and wonder about the background of Meili's dance was no other than Zakurah herself, who have arrived after a short errand she had to do back in Raeburn's house. "Truly amazing." She whispered, standing beside the parents and crossing her arms.

Having known the Musician for a while, she's well-acquainted with a few of his secrets. For one thing, she knew he can talk to Souls and he plays songs not just to get income but also to replenish his mana from them. While he bears great physical power, he is comparatively _incapable _of casting magic on his own. From what he told her, his gate is very productive but completely defective, unable to release the mana building up inside him out his body. This would have killed him via mana-poisoning, if not rendered him ill for life, but he counteracted the consequences by regularly burning it out during his more physically-oriented job, bounty-hunting. With every strike and defense, his body becomes superhuman with the mana empowering it.

His club was a masterpiece from the greatest craftsmen of Vollachia, lined with pyroxene crystals containing useful and situational magical algorithms. Devices called Metia's were also attached to the weapon, another means of compensating his lack of magical affinity. Considering the origins of the weapon, its combat utility is purposely worth an entire army.

As a Holy Knight, she can detect the presence of negative emotions, useful in knowing when Restless and Vengeful Souls are present and needed to be pacified. She was once against him when she thought he was denying the dead their rest, but he gently assured her that these Souls come to him of their own volition, free to come and go whenever they liked. Compared to her, he can understand their language to a certain degree while she can't, so she has no way of knowing how they feel in their situation.

Unlike other times, however, the number of Souls today have grown considerably alongside the audience. The number of emotions present were quite overwhelming too, and he could feel joy coming from Meili's proximity, indicating that she was dancing with one. Not a far-fetched assumption, considering her kind. The elation on her face was a sight to behold, an image of the things that mattered in life, something to protect. Looking to the side, the maid and the Hero looked on with pride, subsiding from their awe and relishing in the child's performance. With a rather upbeat melody now playing, Raeburn bobbed his head to the beat and smiled at his impromptu dancer's rise in tempo.

Money in the hat was beginning to overflow, so did everyone's mana pool, and eventually, a jolly festivity began in the afternoon of the plaza, where the citizens of Lugnica, Living or Dead, human or not, danced together. When his daughter insisted, Emurdol ended up joining the fun, partnered with his beloved. Rem's natural grace and elegance was enrapturing, and he was mediocre compared to her, dancing the simplest choreography he knew, but he enjoyed all the same. His family was with him, and that's all that mattered.

The only regret was that Emilia wasn't here, and that Mother wasn't a living being. The former would have _loved _this, and the latter would have completed _everything_. Ram and Roswaal? He honestly wished they were present as well, just so he could see what kind of moves they'll make. Ram would definitely mirror her sister, and the Lord might do something simple yet quite regal. Considering the character of the clown, it's a likely possibility. He will not forget Beatrice as well. Meili has the power to make that bipolar runt relent to her whims.

When the end finally came, an hour after the song dedicated to the Hero of Pandemonium was played, the Souls were satisfied and the people went away happy. Raeburn ended up being rich, the populace were rejuvenated with their boosted mana, Zakurah witnessed one of the most sublime things in life, and the family of three were smiling.

And amidst the joyous conclusions, 30 pairs of eyes of the same color and of the same shape and design were locked on to a single person amongst the crowd, one with silver hair.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Can't believe you, Emewdul, meowking a party in the plaza with everybody invited yesterday." Felix commented beside him, walking alongside the soon-to-be patient as they walked across the Karsten House corridor. "Mew should've told Feli, I would have taken Lady Crusch for a dance as well."

**"It simply happened." **Emurdol replied, **"An acquaintance of ours played a song, my daughter began to dance, and everyone else did what came naturally."**

"Simply happened, eh? Sure it's not some kinda public stunt for your Lady Emilia, _meow_?"

**"I would rather she be there to enjoy it along with the people." **The answer was left ambiguous thanks to that, **"By the way, why must the procedure happen in the Karsten House?"**

"Well, considering you're some kinda VIP, your dear Feli's gonna give mew some special treatment." Felix answered, "I also brought a few hands with me to help, _meow_."

**"Have you taken notes on what you should do from the Idiot?"**

"Idiot? Oh, you mean that half-dead pretty boy, _meow_? Yeah, I did. And fine, we'll do it your way. Make sure you use simple words, 'kay?"

**"I'll guide you steadily."**

"Oh, that reminds me: why were you, Viandegroc and Meowli outside during the night, sitting around doing meowthing? It was raining and there was quite a breeze too." Felix would have missed their forms in the dark of night from the hallway window if it weren't for the flash of thunder that briefly exposed their very still forms, not a single shiver or blink of two pairs of brightly glowing eyes.

**"Private business. The rain and wind was a great convenience, for it relaxed our nerves."**

"And you're not cold in any way, _meow_?"

**"Meili and I hardly felt the cold. We simply felt the sensation of water pattering on our cloaks and faces. Quite soothing, I urge you to try."**

"Uh-uh, no thanks. My fingertips meowght get shriveled up." Emurdol inwardly scoffed, his outward features betraying nothing of the sort. "I'm a lot meowre surprised you aren't canoodling with your dearest Rem instead."

**"She has better things to do, and I must prepare for the days to come in the Royal Selection."**

Last evening in the yard during the rain, he had gathered every Soul that had congregated in the festivities and conversed with them for hours, gathering as much information as possible, from the change of activity in the Capital to the incoming prospects thanks to the situation of the Kingdom.

The details were more worrying than he thought. And he dreaded of things to come, _especially _when he is part of Emilia's faction. Meili, who joined in the segregation of information, also discovered something harrowing, but it was unrelated to the Royal Selection, something _unique_. The horror and dread on her face told him just how critical it was. Whatever she learned or saw, it was _not _good.

She was left disconcerted and apprehensive ever since. In this hour of the early morning, she was still in bed with Rem, the latter doing her best to comfort his child from whatever was haunting her. She was _crying _as well, quivering and wailing on her favorite maid's chest. Fear and despair clouded her mind. He doesn't need the Link to know that it was something he must address as soon as possible, because it's potentially going to affect _everyone_. The fact that she told him nothing about it was another reason for it to be worth his every concern.

And he will. In time, he will. The sooner his body is operated back to its healthiest state, he will certainly tackle whatever demons were prowling about that Meili saw. He'll deal with it, and hurry back to the Mansion. Emilia's existence is now known, and prospects aren't too bright now because of that, especially with what he learned from the Souls.

After minutes of silence, Felix and Emurdol finally reached the room they will be working on. A cleared-out guest room, the former described, and steps were already taken to simulate a sterilized Operating Room. Twisting the door knob, they were greeted by the sight of Viandegroc conversing with a group of six people, all wearing white surgical gowns.

"Brother, we were just talking about you." Viandegroc nodded to him, still wearing his robes and putting on the guise of a handsome boy.

**"Surgeons." **Emurdol nodded to the robed individuals, his mouth miming the voice in their heads, and they nodded back to him, replying with courteous greetings. As he removed his vest and handed it to the Flesh Golem, revealing his lean but lanky torso of pure white that resembled a corpse, he sat on the edge of the operating bed and spoke, **"While introductions should be in order, I would like to get this over with as soon as possible. Sit down for a while and listen, for we will briefly review on what _we _should do. For starters, I will be your patient, Emurdol Viandegroc."**


End file.
